345E 


Rosabel 


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Rosabel 


By 

Esther  Miller 

Author  of  "  A   Prophet  of  the  Real,"  etc. 


PHILADELPHIA 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY 
1904 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  Angler's  Inn  dozed  in  midsummer  sunshine. 
Along  the  white  road  which  led  on  one  hand  to  the 
village,  on  the  other  to  the  river,  nothing  was  to 
be  seen  except  a  few  fowls  scratching  in  the  dust. 
The  only  sounds  were  sleepy  sounds — the  buzz 
of  insects,  the  droning  of  rustic  voices  through 
the  bar  window,  the  flick  of  a  tail  and  the  stamp 
of  a  hoof  from  one  of  the  big  waggon-team  tethered 
to  the  fence  beside  the  inn.  A  water-wagtail  dipped 
into  the  horse-trough,  and  ran  along  the  edge  after 
a  butterfly  ;  a  kitten  skipped  round  from  the  stable- 
yard  in  wanton  high  spirits,  blundered  into  an  old 
setter  curled  on  a  sack,  and  bounded  off  again, 
with  her  back  arched,  quicker  than  she  came.  The 
odour  of  roses  and  new-mown  hay  mingled  in  wafts 
with  the  smell  of  beer  which  exuded  from  the  inn. 
Suddenly  a  door  swung  open,  and  an  unseen 
woman's  voice  called  briskly  : 

'  Rosabel !     Where  are  you,  Rosabel  ?' 
A  girl,  who  had  been  reading  on  the  bench  out- 
side, looked  up  from  her  novelette. 

i 

2137400 


2  ROSABEL 

'  Yes,  aunt.' 

'  Mr.  Smith  wants  a  bit  of  bread  and  cheese,  and 
the  cold  'am.' 

'  I'm  coming,'  said  Rosabel. 

The  door  banged. 

Rosabel  got  up  reluctantly.  She  was  a  sullen- 
looking  girl.  With  a  better  expression  she  would 
have  been  pretty,  almost  beautiful.  Her  face  was 
round,  her  eyes  were  large  and  dark  and  thickly 
lashed,  her  brown  hair  had  a  touch  of  red  in  it,  her 
complexion,  deepened  by  the  sun,  was  the  colour 
of  a  ripe  peach.  But  she  had  no  animation  what- 
ever, and  the  lack  of  it  accentuated  a  tendency  to 
heaviness  about  the  jaw,  and  drew  down  the  corners 
of  her  mouth,  and  deprived  her  eyes  of  the  natural 
lustre  of  youth.  For  the  rest,  she  was  vilely  dressed 
in  an  ill-fitting  red  silk  blouse  and  a  green  skirt, 
and  her  hair  fell  over  her  brow  as  though  she  would 
not  take  the  trouble  to  do  it  becomingly,  or  did  not 
know  how. 

She  went  indoors,  not  by  the  bar  entrance,  but 
by  the  half -glass  door  marked  *  Hotel.'  Despite 
this  pretension  the  Angler's  Inn  was  a  small  place. 
On  the  ground-floor  there  was  only  the  bar  and 
tiny  bar-parlour,  the  coffee-room,  and  the  kitchens, 
and  upstairs  half  a  dozen  spare  bedrooms  for  visitorsj 
usually  cyclists,  or  boating  and  fishing  gentlemen 
who  could  not  afford,  or  did  not  care  for*  the  smart 
expensive  hotel  on  the  river-bank.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 


ROSABEL  3 

Collins  attended  to  the  bar  with  the  help  of  a  lad 
and  occasional  assistance  from  Rosabel.  It  was 
Rosabel's  superior  duty  to  wait  upon  the  coffee-room. 

She  loathed  it.  To-day,  in  particular,  her  dis- 
taste was  active.  She  had  been  thinking  about 
herself  all  the  morning.  It  was  her  birthday,  and 
self-consciousness,  never  sleeping  in  Rosabel,  had 
been  quickened  by  a  remorseless  contemplation  of 
past,  present,  and  future. 

She  collected  the  '  bit  of  bread  and  cheese  and 
the  cold  'am  '  resentfully,  and  frowned  on  her  way 
back  from  the  kitchen  with  a  heavy  tray  which  was 
as  nothing  in  her  strong  young  arms. 

The  coffee-room  was  rather  a  dismal  little  apart- 
ment, pervaded  at  all  hours  by  a  subtly  compounded 
odour  of  spirits,  cheese,  and  stale  tobacco-smoke. 
It  looked  on  a  damp  corner  of  the  garden,  where 
the  sun  never  seemed  to  strike,  and  on  hot  days  it 
was  stuffy,  and  on  cold  days  it  was  cold. 

Rosabel  laid  the  cloth.  She  did  it  neatly,  and 
made  the  food  look  as  attractive  as  possible  with 
garnishing  of  fresh  parsley,  and  a  bowl  of  roses  in 
the  midst,  because  she  was  a  good  housewife  by 
instinct,  and  could  not  help  herself.  Then  she 
took  up  her  novelette  again,  and  called  through 
the  inner  door  of  the  bar  on  her  way  out  : 

'  Your  lunch  is  ready,  Mr.  Smith.' 

'  All  right,  my  dear,'  said  the  miller.  '  Many 
'appy  returns  of  the  day  to  ye.' 

1—2 


4  ROSABEL 

*  Thank  you,'  said  Rosabel. 

She  sat  down  in  her  old  place  on  the  bench  outside. 

Yes,  it  was  her  birthday,  and  she  was  nineteen. 
She  felt  old.  Even  at  thirteen  she  had  felt  old. 
Not  since  the  heedlessness  of  childhood  had  passed 
had  she  been  really  young.  This  was  because  she 
had  a  grievance,  and  the  temperament  to  make 
the  most  of  it. 

By  birthright  she  was  an  anomaly ;  there  were 
conflicting  strains  in  her  blood,  and  such  '  culture ' 
as  can  be  supplied  by  a  middle-class  day-school  in 
the  country  had  accentuated  them.  She  wanted 
to  be  a  lady,  and  she  was  niece  to  Mrs.  Collins  of 
the  Angler's  Inn  ;  she  was  just  educated  enough 
to  suspect  that  she  was  an  ignoramus  without 
possessing  the  knowledge  necessary  to  rise  above 
her  conditions  and  make  her  own  life.  She  hated 
the  upper  classes  because  she  envied  them,  and 
they  had  discarded  her  ;  she  shrank  with  disgust 
from  the  vulgarity  of  her  father's  people  with  whom 
she  lived,  and  brooded  apart,  resentful,  reserved, 
unhappy,  alone.  Nobody  stopped  to  understand 
her — there  was  too  much  to  do,  and  to  her  aunt, 
a  bustling  woman  not  given  to  analysis,  Rosabel 
was  no  more  than  a  girl  of  peculiar  temper — a 
temper  which  was  like  to  be  her  bane.  If  she 
would  hold  aloof  from  other  young  people,  and  her 
sullenness  kept  the  boys  off,  she  had  only  herself 
to  thank  for  it. 


ROSABEL  5 

Rosabel  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  novelette. 
Reading  was  the  one  thing  she  cared  for,  and  she 
spent  all  her  spare  money  on  fiction.  At  this 
period  her  discrimination  was  feeble,  and  she 
devoured  works  of  art  and  rubbish  impartially. 
Perhaps  she  preferred  the  rubbish  because  it  con- 
tained more  titles  and  scenes  of  splendour,  and, 
of  course,  she  did  not  want  to  read  about  ordin- 
ary people  living  ordinary  workaday  lives  like 
her  own.  It  was  an  antidote  to  the  unromantic 
plebeian  affairs  of  the  Angler's  Inn  that  she  sought. 
She  was  not  such  a  fool  as  to  think  that  things 
really  happened,  and  dukes  and  duchesses  really 
behaved,  as  they  did  in  tales  ;  but  then  it  had  not 
even  occurred  to  her  that  fiction  should  be  a  pic- 
torial representation  in  words,  as  it  were,  of  life. 
They  were  '  stories.'  Rosabel,  embittered  by  ex- 
perience, drew  a  hard-and-fast  line  between  fact 
and  the  fiction  of  her  favourite  penny  paper. 

His  Grace — he  was  never  called  anything  else — 
had  just  proposed  to  the  governess.  To  come 
there  was  the  always  piquant  confounding  of 
scornful  oppressors.  Rosabel,  however,  had  lost 
interest,  temporarily,  in  these  proceedings.  There 
were  times  when  the  reality  of  things  claimed  her, 
when  she  was  bound  to  think  and  think,  with  her 
half-formed  mind,  striving  to  see  the  world  as  it 
was,  to  pierce  out  the  mystery  of  this  ego,  herself, 
which  ached  with  dim  consciousness  of  its  own 


6  ROSABEL 

shortcomings  and  desires  for  impossible  achieve- 
ments, and  still  more  impossible  revenge.  She  had 
wished — how  many  times  ? — that  she  had  never 
been  born.  Others  had  wished  it,  too,  for  that 
matter.  All  the  same,  here  she  was,  and  here,  it 
seemed,  she  had  to  remain. 

A  horseman  came  trotting  along  the  road — a 
gentleman  on  a  raking  chestnut. 

Rosabel  looked  up.  She  knew  the  mare,  and  the 
rider.  He  dropped  down  at  the  inn  door — a  man 
of  seven  or  eight  and  twenty,  big,  fair,  rather 
fresh-coloured,  a  good-looking  specimen  of  a  sensual 
type.  His  name  was  Braithwaite.  He  was 
'  county,'  and  owned  Hallowdene,  a  large  place 
five  miles  off. 

'  'Morning,  Rosabel,'  he  said. 

She  rose  without  answering. 

'  A  whisky-and-soda — long.  You  know  how  I 
like  it.  Bring  it  out,  there's  a  good  girl.' 

When  she  reappeared  with  the  drink  in  one  of 
the  best  tumblers,  the  chestnut  was  tied  to  a  tree, 
and  Maurice  Braithwaite  in  possession  of  her 
seat. 

'  Come  and  sit  down,'  he  said  in  a  friendly  tone, 
making  room  for  her.  *  We're  smart  to-day !  A 
new  blouse,  Rosabel  ?' 

'  Yes,'  she  said  uneasily.     '  Don't  you  like  it  ?' 

'  It's  beautiful.  But  you  mustn't  go  near  the 
cows  !' 


ROSABEL  7 

'  Aunt  gave  it  to  me  for  a  birthday  present,'  said 
Rosabel. 

*  Oh,  it's  your  birthday  !     That  accounts  for  the 
unwonted  splendour.     I'd  like  to  give  you  some- 
thing, too.'     His  fingers  slipped  into  his  waistcoat- 
pocket.     '  See  here,  Rosabel- 
He  was  trying  to  put  a  sovereign  into  her  hand. 

Rosabel,  still  standing,  shrank  backj  scarlet,- 
with  her  arms  behind  her. 

'  No,  thank  you,  Mr.  Braithwaite  !' 

'  Why  not  ?'  he  asked. 

'  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  but  I  couldn't  take  it. 
I  didn't  mean  that  when  I  mentioned  my  birthday.' 

'  I  know.     Don't  be  a  fool !' 

She  shook  her  head  again,  and  Braithwaite 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  looking  annoy ed*  and 
repocketed  the  money. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  His  moustache 
dipped  into  the  whisky-and-soda.  He  lit  a  cigar. 
Rosabel  glanced  at  the  door. 

'  Anyhow,  you  can  stay  and  talk  to  me  for  five 
minutes  !  Come  along.' 

She  accepted  his  invitation  to  sit  down  this  time, 
although  reluctantly,  and  he  smiled  again. 

'  And  how  old  are  you  ?' 

'  Nineteen,'  she  said. 

'  I  wonder  if  you'll  ever  realize  what  a  deuced 
pretty  little  girl  you  are  !' 

Rosabel  locked  her  hands  in  her  lap. 


8  ROSABEL 

'  I  know  what  I'm  like,'  she  said  discontentedly. 
'  But  you  don't  know  how  to  have  a  good  time.' 
He  was  one  of  those  men  who  live  to  amuse 
themselves,  and  only  regard  women  in  one  way. 
He  had  often  noticed  Rosabel,  and  made  advances, 
which  she  had  either  not  seen  or  pretended  not  to 
see.     She  began  to  pique  him.     After  all,  who  was 
she  ?     He   played    the    game    mechanically    as    a 
swimmer  strikes  out  when  dropped  into  deep  water. 
The  habit  of  pursuit  was  natural  to  his  species. 

*  I  have  never  had  a  good  time,'  said  Rosabel, 
*  and  I  don't  suppose  I  ever  shall.' 

*  Haven't  you  got  a  sweetheart  ?' 

*  No,'  she  said,  frowning  at  her  knuckles. 

*  Why  ?     Haven't  the  lads  hereabouts  any  eyes  ?' 

*  I  don't  care  for  men  of  that  sort — farmers,  and 
tradespeople,  and  servants.' 

*  You  want  a  gentleman,  eh  ?     You  are  ambitious. 
And  yet  you  are  always  snubbing  me  !' 

*  You  ?'  she  queried. 

'  You  must  know  by  this  time  that  I  am  desper- 
ately in  love  with  you  !' 

*  Please    don't    talk    nonsense,'     said     Rosabel 
angrily,  turning  red  again.   *  You  are  a  married  man. 
I'm  not  such  a  fool.     You  are  only  laughing  at  me. 

'  I'm  not !'  He  leaned  over  her.  His  arm, 
which  had  been  resting  on  the  back  of  the  seat, 
suddenly  pressed  her  waist.  *  Give  me  a  kiss, 
Rosabel !' 


ROSABEL  9 

*  Certainly  not,  Mr.  Braithwaite  !' 

*  There's  nobody  in  sight !'  he  said. 

She  thrust  him  away,  and  sprang  to  her  feet. 
'  How  dare  you  !' 

*  Well,  you  are  a  little  cat !'  he  said. 

Rosabel  ran  into  the  house,  and  upstairs  to  her 
room,  where  she  sank  down  and  began  to  cry  with 
rage. 

Braithwaite,  after  a  moment's  chagrin,  smiled 
the  wrong  side  of  his  mouth,  finished  his  drink,  and 
went  into  the  bar  to  pay  for  it. 

*  Gives  herself  too  many  airs,'  he  muttered  as 
he  rode  away.     '  Cheek  !     She  ought  to  be  flattered 
that  I  take  any  notice  of  her.' 


CHAPTER  II 

THAT  afternoon  an  electric  launch,  with  a  dozen 
ladies  and  gentlemen  on  board,  stopped  at  the 
Three  Fishers  Hotel.  It  was  a  party  of  smart 
people  who  were  in  the  habit  of  regarding  them- 
selves as  the  very  smartest  in  London.  Not  in  the 
ordinary  sense  used  by  outsiders,  be  it  understood, 
for  there  was  not  a  single  title  among  them.  But 
they  were  the  choice  spirits  who  wrote,  and  acted, 
and  painted,  and  criticised,  and  talked — above  all 
talked,  chiefly  about  themselves. 

They  scattered  over  the  little  hotel  and  the 
riverside  lawn. 

'  Remember,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne  aloud,  '  that 
we  are  all  to  reunite  here  at  4.30  for  tea.' 

*  And  it's  3.15  now,'  added  Alec  Aylmer,  consult- 
ing his  watch. 

Of  course  he  was  beside  her,  and  they  strolled 
away  together.  It  was  his  party,  although  she 
had  asked  the  guests,  and  their  friendship  had 
reached  the  stage  when  tactful  people  invited  them 
together  and  got  out  of  their  way. 

10 


ROSABEL  ii 

'  Shall  we  go  for  a  walk  through  the  village  ?'  he 
suggested. 

*  I  don't  mind,'  she  replied. 

She  was  most  unsuitably  dressed  for  a  country 
road,  in  a  long  muslin  dress  elaborately  inlet  with 
lace,  a  picture  hat,  and  fluffy  parasol.  But  she 
looked  charming.  He  thought  so,  and  she  knew 
it.  A  fair  woman,  she"  was,  of  medium  height, 
with  a  white  pointed  face,  plaintive  eyes,  a  prac- 
tised smile.  Fairbourne  had  been  nothing  more 
elevated  than  a  stockbroker,  but  he  had  left  her 
well  off.  Her  little  house  in  Great  Cumberland 
Place  hummed  with  celebrities.  She  did  nothing 
herself  ;  but  to  know  people  who  did,  to  be  in  the 
'  inner  ring,'  was  her  passion.  She  lost  a  great  deal 
of  money  at  bridge. 

Aylmer  did  nothing — with  somewhat  less  elabora- 
tion. He  lounged,  and  looked  on — a  sceptic  without 
enthusiasms.  But  she  drew  him,  perhaps  with 
her  tongue  ;  really,  she  talked  very  well,  and  when 
a  woman  of  position  looks  twice  at  a  man,  he  is  apt 
to  pause  and  look  back  at  her.  He  supposed  her 
to  be  about  two-and-thirty,  his  own  age  ;  as  a 
matter  of  fact  she  was  thirty-seven,  but  nobody 
would  have  guessed  it. 

She  picked  up  her  skirts  daintily,  and  sought  the 
shady  side  of  the  way. 

'  A  perfect  day,'  she  said.  '  How  good  of  you  to 
ask  us !' 


12  ROSABEL 

*  It  is  very  pleasant,'  he  agreed. 

'  Pretty  country,  the  ripple  of  water  in  one's 
ears,  an  excellent  lunch,  plenty  of  ice,  and  good 
company  !  What  more  can  one  want  in  this  world  ?' 

'  A  game  of  bridge  at  my  chambers,  and  a  little 
supper  to  wind  up  the  evening  !' 

*  What   a   happy   thought !'    she   said.     '  But    I 
shall  be  so  sleepy  and  stupid  after  a  day  in  the  open 
air,  and  I  shall  lose,  and  I  really  can't  afford  to  lose 
any  more.' 

'  How  do  you  stand  ?'  he  inquired. 
'  Oh,  I  daren't  calculate.     I  gave  up  keeping  an 
account  last  month.' 
'  As  bad  as  that !' 

*  Even  worse.* 

He  looked  at  her  under  his  lids  with  the  tentative 
humour  of  the  man  of  tact  who  is  going  to  venture 
much.  Women  found  Aylmer  fascinating.  He 
was  handsome,  with  very  fine  gray  eyes,  a  straight 
nose,  and  a  clean  mouth.  At  Oxford  he  had  shown 
a  great  deal  of  promise,  but  an  income  of  three 
thousand  a  year  had  nipped  it  in  the  bud.  So 
he  lived  comfortably  in  chambers  in  Piccadilly, 
travelled  when  he  felt  inclined,  dined  simply, 
smoked  moderately,  hunted  in  the  season,  and— 
so  far — had  evaded  matrimony.  Was  the  net  over 
him  at  last  ? 

'  May  I  put  you  straight  ?' 

*  It's  really  very  sweet  of  you,'  said  Mrs.  Fair- 


ROSABEL  13 

bourne.     '  But  quite  impossible  !     My  dear  fellow, 
just  think  !' 

'  A  loan,'  he  said,  with  ingratiating  sweetness, 
*  and  you  shall  pay  when  you  like !  A  mere 
business  transaction.' 

*  Oh,  if  you  put  it  like  that !'  she  said. 

'  How  much  ?'  He  unscrewed  the  gold  pencil 
on  his  watch-chain,  and  pulled  down  his  cuff  for  a 
note. 

'  Twelve  hundred,'  she  said  faintly.  '  I'll  live 
on  bread  and  water  till  I've  paid  you  !  I  really  am 
in  a  tight  corner.  My  income  is  locked  up,  you 
know.  Fortunately,  there  is  always  Aunt  Eliza.' 

'  Who  is  she  ?' 

*  Aunt  Eliza   Dudgeon  of  Torquay.     Can't  you 
see  her  ?     She  disapproves  of  me,  and  we  never 
meet ;  but  she  is  going  to  leave  me  fifty  thousand 
pounds,  because  she  has  nobody  else.     I  suppose 
she  can't  live  for  ever.     She  is  a  maiden  of  sixty- 
five.' 

It  was  the  habit  of  this  particular  smart  set  to 
be  flippant  on  all  matters,  sacred  and  profane. 
And  Aylmer  was  so  used  to  hearing  men  and 
women  scoff  at  religion,  and  sentiment,  and  the 
natural  ties  of  kindred  and  affection — at  every- 
thing, in  fact,  which  was  nature,  not  art — that  it 
did  not  even  strike  him  that  Mrs.  Fairbourne  had 
spoken  of  her  aged  relative  with  a  lack  of  respect 
and  good  feeling  which  betokened  a  lack  of  heart. 


I4  ROSABEL 

A  naturally  good  palate  may  become  perverted  by 
unwholesome  condiments.  Ordinary  pepper,  if 
used  too  frequently,  loses  effect,  and  only  cayenne 
and  chillies  can  tickle  the  vitiated  tongue.  Thus 
suggestive  jokes  crop  up,  and  questionable  in- 
nuendoes malice,  cynicism,  and  the  desire  to  shine 
at  anyone's  expense. 

But  Aylmer,  blunted  by  habit,  smiled  without  a 
qualm,  apparently  quite  satisfied  with  the  perfect 
gown,  the  exquisite  manner,  the  refined  voice  and 
face,  which  was  all  of  a  woman  that  there  was 
beside  him. 

*  You  mustn't  worry  at  all,'  he  said.     '  The  money 
is  lying  at  the  bank.     Glad  to  find  a  use  for  it.' 

*  Bloated  millionaire  !' 

*  No.     You  know  the  figure  of  my  income,'  he 
said  simply.     '  I've  no  vices,  that  is  all.' 

4  And  I  have,  you  mean  ?' 

*  You  shall  have  the  cheque  to-morrow.' 

'Go  on  !'  she  said.     *  You  haven't  finished  !     I 
know  you  are  dying  to  improve  the  occasion  !' 
'  Please  don't  play  bridge  !' 

*  But  it's  so  old-fashioned  to  be  eccentric.     Every- 
body is  normal  nowadays.' 

He  was  silent. 

*  I'll  draw  the  line  at  penny  points,'  she  said. 
'  What !  not  satisfied  with  that  ?' 

*  Of  course,  you  will  do  exactly  as  you  like,  my 
dear  lady  !     Who  am  I  to  presume ' 


ROSABEL  15 

*  Why,'  she  asked,  *  don't  you  like  me  to  play  at 
all?' 

*  Because  there  are  some  women  who  shouldn't.' 

'  You  mean  that  I  lose  my  head !'  She  was 
piqued. 

'  It  is  a  pity — when  the  head  is  so  charming  !' 

She  gave  him  a  melting  glance.  Goodness 
knows  what  might  have  happened  if  an  unexpected 
diversion  had  not  occurred. 

'  Cows  !'  shrieked  Mrs.  Fairbourne.     *  Save  me  !' 

There  were  six,  calves  with  them,  coming  down 
the  road  in  charge  of  a  whistling  urchin. 

'  I  think,'  said  Aylmer,  *  that  the  peril  may  be 
faced  with  presence  of  mind.  But  if  you  prefer  to 
retreat,  here  is  a  gate  !* 

They  leaned  over  it,  laughing,  on  the  inside.  No 
doubt  she  had  exaggerated  her  alarm  for  the  sake 
of  clutching  his  arm. 

'  I  thought  you  were  brought  up  in  the  country  ?' 
he  remarked. 

*  So  I  was.     But  so  long  ago  that  I  have  forgotten 
all  about  it !     Now  why  did  I  say  that  ?     You  will 
begin  to  wonder  how  old  I  am.     I  meant,  of  course, 
that  I  always  hated  cows.' 

*  If  women  were  half  as  harmless  !' 

*  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  that  you  have  found  them 
very  dangerous — yet !' 

Was  she  trying  to  draw  him  on  a  little  too  quickly  ? 
Perhaps  his  mind  was  not  quite  made  up,  or  he 


16  ROSABEL 

preferred,  if  it  were,  to  choose  his  own  time.     He 
only  smiled  at  her. 

*  I  have  a  cool  head.' 

'  A  cold  heart,  you  mean  !'  she  cried  angrily. 

*  Allow  me  to  open  the  gate  !' 

She  moved  too  widely.  A  nail  caught  the  muslin 
dress.  There  was  a  rip,  and  half  a  yard  of  lace  frill 
trailed  the  ground. 

'  Oh,  look  at  that !'  she  wailed. 

'  What  a  misfortune  !  But  there  is  an  inn  a 
little  further  on.  We'll  get  it  mended  for  you.' 

Thus  it  happened  that  Rosabel,  wrapped  in 
gloomy  meditation  on  the  edge  of  her  bed,  was 
presently  disturbed  by  a  breathless  kitchenmaid. 

'  Please,  miss,  you're  wanted  downstairs.' 

Rosabel  sponged  her  eyes  briefly,  and  descended 
with  remnants  of  the  storm  still  lingering  in  them. 

*  How  you  do  get  out  of  the  way,  Rosabel !'  said 
Mrs.  Collins  sharply.     '  You  left  Mr.   Braithwaite 
to  bring  in  his  own  tumbler,  and  I  have  to  send  all 
over  the  place  after  you  when  customers  come.     If 
it  wasn't  your  birthday  I'd  be  downright  cross. 
Hurry !     There's    a    lady    in    the    best    bedroom 
wanting  a  needle  and  cotton — white.' 

Rosabel  never  *  answered  back.'  She  only  lowered 
her  black  lashes  sullenly,  and  her  mouth  assumed  a 
more  decided  pout.  She  took  the  needle  and  cotton 
to  the  best  bedroom. 

The  apparition  which  met  her  view  as  she  opened 


ROSABEL  17 

the  door  made  the  girl  pause.  Here  was  a  lady 
indeed,  not  a  lady  merely  in  the  catholic  spirit  of 
her  aunt.  The  faultless  costume,  the  perfectly- 
dressed  hair,  the  white  face  with  the  faintly-arched, 
supercilious  brows  and  thin  red  lips,  the  subtle 
perfume  which  clung  about  her,  went  to  Rosabel's 
heart  like  a  knife-thrust.  She  had  never  heard 
the  word  chic,  but  she  knew  that  this  woman 
was  perfectly  turned  out  from  her  crown  to  her 
heels,  and  walked  the  ways  of  luxury  in  another 
world. 

Rosabel  saw  before  her,  in  fact,  an  ideal  repre- 
sentative of  that  class  which  ever  inspired  her  with 
the  antagonism  of  grudging  admiration,  of  consum- 
ing envy,  of  class  resentment,  with  the  jealousy  of 
the  base-born  for  the  heir.  The  girl  in  her  vulgar 
clothes,  intelligent  enough  to  know  how  much 
she  lacked,  perceived  the  gulf  between  herself 
and  this  woman,  and  realization  of  those  deficiencies 
which  were  not  her  own  fault  filled  her  with  mingled 
rage  and  despair. 

Her  firm  sulky  mouth  drew  in  at  the  corners, 
and  she  frowned,  perhaps  unconsciously,  at  Mrs. 
Fairbourne. 

*  Here  is  the  needle  and  thread.  Can  I  do  any- 
thing ?' 

She  always  spoke  correctly,  and  her  country 
breeding  had  preserved  her  from  a  Cockney  accent. 
On  this  occasion  she  took  extra  pains  to  enunciate 

2 


:8  ROSABEL 

veil.  But  Mrs.  Fairbourne  did  not  notice  her 
it  all.  A  young  person  was  to  her  an  automaton 
to  make  itself  useful.  A  penchant  for  the  lower 
;lasses  was  not  one  of  her  fads.  In  fact,  they  dis- 
gusted her  when  she  thought  about  them  at  all. 
She  made  an  art  of  refinement.  But,  of  course, 
she  was  always  polite,  and  spoke  civilly  to  the 
ajirl  of  the  inn. 

*  I  wonder  if  you  could  mend  this  flounce  ?     I 
caught  it  on  a  nail.     I  hate  stooping.' 

*  I'll  try,'  said  Rosabel. 

'  You  need  not  be  very  neat,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne. 
*  Anyhow  will  do  till  I  get  home,  as  long  as  I  don't 
fall  over  it.' 

The  girl  threaded  her  needle,  went  down  on  her 
knees,  and  began  to  sew. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne's  eyes  roamed,  as  she  stood, 
over  the  rose-bud  wall-paper,  the  old-fashioned 
crochet  quilt  and  chintz  bed-curtains,  the  square 
window  sunk  rather  deeply  in  the  wall — the  Angler's 
Inn  was  an  old  house — and  the  green  glass  orna- 
ments on  the  mantelpiece.  It  was  very  clean, 
rather  countrified,  and  hideous. 

She  was  amused.  What  taste  these  people 
had! 

Then  her  attention  was  attracted  by  the  insuffer- 
able combination  of  crude  red  and  green  worn 
by  the  girl  crouching  beside  her,  and  she  smiled. 
Yes,  what  taste  !  She  recalled  an  effective  remark 


ROSABEL  19 

she  had  made  at  dinner  the  other  night :  '  The 
Anglo-Saxons  are  the  least  picturesque  of  all 
races  on  earth.'  It  was  not  original,  but  it  had 
pleased  her  at  the  time  ;  a  good  memory  will  often 
take  the  place  of  wit.  Now,  if  this  girl  were  properly 
dressed.  .  .  .  She  had  quite  a  nice-shaped  head, 
and  her  red-brown  hair  was  pretty  and  plentiful. 
Her  complexion  and  her  features,  too— 

A  twinge  passed  across  Mrs.  Fairbourne's  face. 
She  inhaled  a  sibilant  breath  through  her  teeth, 
and  looked  harder  at  Rosabel.  A  resemblance 
had  struck  her,  a  startling  resemblance.  It  was 
as  though  a  cupboard  door  had  opened  suddenly 
disclosing  a  skeleton  which  had  been  hidden  so 
long  that  she  had  almost  forgotten  it.  Yet  it 
might  be  only  her  imagination  which  saw  this  grim 
relic  of  the  past. 

The  girl's  name  would  settle  the  matter  one  way 
or  the  other  if  she  dared  to  ask  it.  But  she  would 
not  encourage  herself  in  this  flight  of  fancy.  The 
likeness  was  an  accident,  no  doubt.  Downstairs 
Aylmer  was  waiting  for  her.  He  was  real,  the 
launch  party  was  real,  all  the  pleasant  accessories 
of  her  life  to-day  were  real — why  permit  an  evil 
dream  to  linger  in  the  sunshine  ? 

But  still  she  looked  at  the  girl's  face,  and  the 
question  she  had  tried  to  stifle  came  out  at  last. 

*  Are  you  the  landlady's  daughter  ?' 

'  No,  her  niece,'  replied  Rosabel,  glancing  up. 

2 — 2 


to  ROSABEL 

*  You  remind  me  of  a — a  servant  I  had  once,' 
aid  Mrs.  Fairbourne.  '  Perhaps  you  are  a  younger 
ister.  What  is  your  name  ?' 

'  Rosabel  Carpenter,'  replied  the  girl.  She  was 
iffended  at  the  suggestion,  and  bit  off  a  thread 
nth  a  vicious  jerk. 

'  Rosabel  Carpenter  !'  repeated  Mrs.  Fairbourne 
aintly.  '  Carpenter  !  N — no,  the  name  isn't  the 
ame.  That  will  do.  You  have  mended  my  dress 
icely.  Thank  you.' 

She  put  half  a  crown  in  Rosabel's  hand. 


CHAPTER  III 

AYLMER  was  waiting  in  the  coffee-room.  When 
Mrs.  Fairbourne  stood  in  the  doorway,  he  started. 

'  Good  God  !  what  is  the  matter  ?' 

She  was  white  to  the  lips. 

*  This  place  is  so  stuffy !'  she  gasped.  '  Take 
me  away.' 

'  Have  some  brandy  !' 

'  No.'  Her  gloved  hand  sought  his  sympathetic 
arm.  '  I  shall  be  all  right.  Only  take  me  away.' 

Nevertheless,  she  could  scarcely  see  the  road  she 
trod  on,  and  he  led  a  mere  doll  towards  the 
river. 

When  she  had  recovered  a  little,  an  impulse 
moved  her  to  confide  in  him.  If  she  were  going 
to  marry  him — and  her  mind  was  made  up,  at  any 
rate — it  would  not  be  safe  to  keep  a  secret.  Besides, 
what  she  had  to  tell  him  could  never  be  a  real 
secret ;  too  many  people  knew  it. 

'  Something  upset  me,'  she  said.  '  How 
strangely  things  happen !  Why  should  chance 
have  taken  me  to  that  particular  inn  ?' 

21 


22  ROSABEL 

'  Then  there  is  something  the  matter  !'  he  ex- 
Maimed,  looking  at  her. 

*  Yes.     Oh,    I    have    had    a    shock !     Don't    be 
alarmed.     I  am  not  going  to  faint  now.     I  must 
tell  you.' 

He  was  obviously  waiting,  with  expectation  on 
tiptoe.  Her  hints  were  mysterious  enough. 

*  I  suppose  you  know,'  she  said  at  last,  'that  I 
have  been  married  twice  ?' 

'  I  heard  something  about  an  early  marriage.' 

*  I  was  seventeen,  and  such  a  little  fool.     You 
know  what  girls  are  at  that  age.' 

He  smiled. 

'  Don't  smile.  It  was  a  tragedy.  Do  you  know 
any  more  ?' 

'  You  dispensed  with  your  father's  consent, 
didn't  you  ?' 

1  Go  on.' 

*  My  information  is  exhausted.' 

*  Then  people  are  more  charitable  than  I  sup- 
posed,' she   said,   with   a   slight  laugh,    '  or  their 
memories    are     shorter.      I     ran     away    with    my 
groom  !' 

*  Good  Lord,  Amy  !' 

He  did  not  notice,  in  his  pardonable  agitation, 
that  he  had  called  her  by  her  name,  but  she  did, 
and  her  soul  was  balmed. 

'  Yes,  that  was  it.  I  used  to  go  out  riding  with 
him.  It  was  down  in  Devonshire,  and  deadly — not 


ROSABEL  23 

a  man   in   the  place.     He  was   remarkably  hand- 
some. .  .  .     Do  remember  my  age  !' 
'  Have  I  said  a  word  ?' 
'  You  are  sneering  in  your  sleeve  !' 
'  On    my    honour !'     He    looked    at    her    quite 
tenderly. 

'  I  think  I  was  disillusioned  in  a  week,'  she  con- 
tinued. '  Of  course,  he  was — a  groom.  We  had 
no  money,  too.  I  believe  he  was  fond  of  me,  but 
he  had  been  reckoning  on  my  father  for  supplies, 
and  papa  simply  washed  his  hands  of  us.  A  year 
of  horrors  followed.  We  lived  in  two  rooms  in  a 
dirty  lodging-house  on  the  proceeds  of  the  jewellery 
and  clothes  I  had  brought  away  with  me.  It 
served  me  right,  no  doubt,  but  I  want  your  sym- 
pathy.' 

'  You  have  it,  dear  lady.' 

*  At  the  end  of  the  year  William — that  was  his 
name — caught  a  chill  and  died  of  pneumonia.  I 
had  not  looked  for  such  a  happy  release.  I  tele- 
graphed instantly  to  papa,  and  he  came  by  return, 
and  took  me  home.  Oh,  the  luxury  of  cleanliness, 
refinement,  and  decent  cooking  again  !' 
'  So  the  story  ended  happily  ?' 
She  had  been  recovering  more  and  more  under  the 
sun  of  his  sympathy,  but  at  this  moment  a  relapse 
set  in.  She  really  looked  as  if  she  were  going  to 
cry. 

'  Unfortunately,    it    did    not    end    there.      You 


24  ROSABEL 

saw   that   girl   at   the   inn — the    girl    they   called 
Rosabel  ?' 

'  Yes.' 

'  She  is  William's  daughter.' 

'  William's  daughter  ?' 

*  And  mine,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne  faintly. 

'  The  devil !'  ejaculated  Aylmer.  He  stared. 
Ihe  information  was  enough  to  startle  a  more 
ardent  suitor. 

*  Her    resemblance  to  him  struck    me  at  once,' 
>he  pursued.     '  I  asked  her  name.  .  .  .     What  an 
experience !' 

*  But  how  is  it  that  she — that  you  .  .  .     Why 
lidn't  you  know  ?' 

'  Papa  wouldn't  let  me  keep  her.     He  wanted  to 

:ut  the  whole  connection — naturally.     It  was  the 

:ondition  he  made  on  taking  me  home.     Was  I 

ikely  to  object  ?     The  infant  was  given  to  William's 

ister,  a  respectable  young  married  woman  without 

hildren  of  her  own.     At  the  time  the  husband  was 

butler,  I  believe.     They  were  to  have  a  hundred 

year,  and  hold  their  tongues.     The  lawyers  pay 

:  to  this  day.     I  have  never  had  any  communica- 

on  with  the  people  direct.    The  following  year  I 

tarried  George  Fairbourne.' 

'  He  knew  ?' 

'  Papa  explained.     George  didn't  care.     He  was 
love.     Besides,  what  did  it  matter  ?     It  was  all 


ROSABEL  25 

'  It  was  all  over,'  repeated  Aylmer  mechanically. 

'  I  must  say  papa  managed  well.  Very  little  talk 
reached  London.  I  wasn't  known  then,  you  see. 
People  met  me  as  Mrs.  Fairbourne,  and,  of  course, 
I  never  mentioned  anything  unpleasant.' 

*  And  the  girl  at  the  inn  is  your  daughter !' 
Curiosity  moved  him.  '  Did  you  say  anything  to 
her?' 

'  What  could  I  say  ?  I  was  never  so  shocked  in 
my  life.  And  we  were  having  such  a  pleasant  day  ! 
It  was  all  your  fault.  You  took  me  there  !  You 
won't  tell  anybody  ?' 

'  Of  course  not.' 

'  I  trust  you,'  she  said. 

She  leaned  towards  him  with  delicate  flattery  of 
voice  and  eyes,  but  Aylmer  was  thinking. 

'  So  even  now,'  he  said,  trying  to  grasp  the 
stupendous  fact,  *  she  doesn't  know  who  you  are  ?' 

'  Good  gracious,  no !'  cried  Mrs.  Fairbourne. 
'  Did  you  expect  me  to  reveal  myself  after  the 
manner  of  the  long-lost  parent  of  melodrama  ? 
She  mended  my  dress,  and  I  gave  her  half  a 
crown.' 

'  Half  a  crown  !'  he  exclaimed,  in  huge  delight. 
'  Half  a  crown  !  How  extravagant  you  are  !  I 
always  told  you  that  you  tipped  too  highly.  That 
is  why  you  cannot  afford  to  lose  at  bridge.  A 
shilling  was  the  price  !' 

'  Perhaps  so,'  she  said.     '  But  I  suppose  I  felt 


26  ROSABEL 

that  I  ought  to  do  something  special  .  .  .  under 
the  circumstances,  you  know.' 

Aylmer  shouted  with  laughter. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  echoed  him,  from  a  mere  syco- 
phantic desire  to  please.  She  was  not  really  amused. 
The  encounter  had  been  painful  in  the  extreme.  It 
would  take  her  several  days  to  recover  from  it. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ALTHOUGH  no  instinct  had  whispered  the  amazing 
truth  to  Rosabel,  she  felt  that  something  had  hap- 
pened. It  was  seldom  that  she  came  into  contact 
with  smart  ladies,  although  she  saw  many  of  them 
in  the  distance  on  Sundays  when  she  walked  along 
the  tow-path  to  the  lock,  and  she  had  taken  par- 
ticular notice  of  every  point  of  Mrs.  Fairbourne's 
manner  and  attire. 

When  she  was  free  at  last  to  meditate  upon  the 
experiences  of  her  birthday — that  anniversary  of  a 
date  which  her  mother  had  forgotten — she  stared 
at  the  reflection  in  her  small  toilet-glass  with  tragic 
eyes. 

'  I  don't  believe  the  blouse  is  really  nice,'  she 
thought.  '  Perhaps  it's  all  wrong,  and  one  oughtn't 
to  wear  red  and  green  together  ?'  She  grew  hot 
and  anxious.  '  Mr.  Braithwaite  laughed,  although 
he  said  he  liked  it.  Perhaps  he  knew  it  was  wrong. 
I  wonder  what  she  thought  of  it  ?' 

It  was  terrible  to  imagine  that  these  fine  people  had 

been  amused  at  her.     Sensitiveness  to  ridicule  was 

27 


28  ROSABEL 

almost  a  disease  with  the  girl.  She  could  have  for- 
given  someone  who  struck  her  sooner  than  someone 
who  laughed  at  her.  She  regretted  now  that  she 
had  put  on  the  new  red  blouse  instead  of  her 
usual  white  cotton  dress.  At  any  rate,  there 
was  nothing  remarkable  about  a  white  cotton 

dress. 

'  She  said  I  resembled  a  servant  she  had  once/ 
remembered  Rosabel.  'Then  she  must  have 
thought  I  looked  common  !' 

And  if  she  were  common  now,  what  would  she  be 
when  she  was  older  ?  Probably  she  would  grow 
like  her  aunt — stout  and  florid,  with  a  loud  voice,; 
a  hearty  laugh,  and  a  painful  outspokenness. 
What  else  could  she  expect  ?  She  was  a  waitress 
at  an  inn,  the  associate  of  vulgar  people,  one  of 
them — a  mark  for  the  impertinence  of  every  man 
who  came  along.  A  black  depression  settled  upon 
her.  Never  had  her  shortcomings  seemed  so  many 
and  so  insurmountable.  In  her  heart  of  hearts  she 
had  cherished  the  idea  that  she  was  better  than  her 
neighbours.  Her  continual  anxious  search  for 
some  sign  of  the  superiority  due  to  her  birth  had 
found  her  a  little  solace.  Now  all  hope  was  swept 
away.  She  saw  herself  as  an  ignorant,  ill-bred 
village  girl  beside  this  elegant  woman  of  the  world. 
And  she  ought  to  have  been  something  different. 
She  was  wronged.  She  had  been  robbed  of  the 
advantages  and  opportunities  her  mother's  daughter 


ROSABEL  29 

should  have  received,  which  it  should  have  been  her 
mother's  pleasure  to  give  her. 

Many  times  she  had  summed  up  her  grievances, 
but  never  had  the  total  impressed  her  so  deeply. 
She  was  filled  with  a  passionate,  burning  hatred  of 
the  woman  who  had  abandoned  her.  Perhaps  one 
day,  she  did  not  know  how,  she  would  be  revenged. 
If  she  had  been  born  two  centuries  earlier,  she  would 
have  trafficked  with  the  nearest  witch,  and  brought 
a  fearful  retribution  upon  her  mother's  head  by 
burning  her  waxen  image  in  the  kitchen  fire. 

The  smell  of  fried  onions  reached  her  in  her  little 
bedroom  under  the  roof.  It  was  supper-time.  She 
was  not  hungry,  but  they  would  call  her  if  she  did 
not  go  down. 

She  descended  slowly.  A  loneliness  of  the  spirit 
had  seized  her.  She  felt  an  alien  in  the  house  of  her 
aunt,  where  she  had  lived  all  her  life. 

There  was  a  steak — the  raison  d'etre  of  the  onions 
—on  the  supper-table  in  the  parlour,  and  plenty 
of  fried  potatoes,  and  pale  ale.  The  Angler's 
Inn  was  a  good  concern,  and  the  Collinses  lived 
well. 

Collins,  the  retired  butler,  a  tall,  stout,  smug- 
faced  man  not  unlike  his  wife,  had  just  begun  to 
serve  out.  Mrs.  Collins  was  cutting  bread. 

*  How's  your  appetite,  Rosabel  ?'  he  asked. 

'  I  don't  want  any  meat,  thank  you,  uncle,' 
replied  the  girl. 


3o  ROSABEL 

'  What's  that  ?'  exclaimed  her  aunt.  '  Nonsense, 
Rosabel !  You  eat  your  supper  properly.' 

'  I  am  going  to  have  some  bread  and  cheese.' 

'  I  know  what  it  is,'  said  Collins  facetiously. 
'  She's  afraid  of  losing  her  figure  if  she  eats  enough, 
eh,  Rosabel  ?' 

Rosabel  disdained  to  reply. 

'  No,  it's  the  onions,'  said  Mrs.  Collins,  with  a 
short  laugh.  *  She  likes  them  really,  but  she  pre- 
tends she  don't  because  they  ain't  genteel.  I 
know  the  young  miss  !' 

This  was  such  a  shrewd  definition  of  her  attitude 
that  Rosabel  scowled.  There  is  nothing  as  annoy- 
ing, at  times,  as  the  truth. 

*  Don't  you  put  on  so  many  airs,  Rosabel,'  added 
Mrs.  Collins,  irritated  in  her  turn  by  the  girl's 
silence.  '  Nobody  notices  you,  so  you  might  as 
well  be  natural.  Sulkiness  and  conceit  never  got 
a  girl  a  good  husband  yet,  and  you'll  be  left  on  the 
shelf  if  you  don't  mend  your  ways.' 

Rosabel  raised  fierce  eyesomder  lowering  brows. 

'  I  wish  you'd  let  me  alone,  aunt !' 

'  You've  been  cross  all  day,'  replied  Mrs.  Collins 
sharply.  *  Bless  the  girl !  what's  the  matter  with 
her  ?  You  had  presents,  and  your  favourite  pudding 
for  dinner,  and  a  glass  of  champagne — everything 
of  the  best,  and  no  expense  spared  to  give  you  a 
happy  birthday — and  yet  you  must  go  about  with 


ROSABEL  31 

a  face  like  a  wet  week,  so  grumpy  that  you  can't  be 
spoken  to.     Such  ingratitude  !' 

*  I'm   not   grumpy,'   cried  the  girl   with  sudden 
passion. 

She  pushed  her  chair  back  stormily,  and  rose  from 
the  table. 

*  Yes,  go  to  bed  !     It's  the  best  thing  you  can  do. 
I  don't  want  any  sour  faces  near  me.' 

'  There,  there,  wife !'  said  Collins,  a  peace-loving 
man.  '  It's  the  girl's  birthday.  We  all  have  our 
tempers.' 

*  If  she  were  a  couple  of  years  younger,  I'd  box 
her  ears,'  declared  his  wife,  red  in  the  face. 

Rosabel  went  out,  banging  the  door,  and  retreated 
to  her  own  room,  and  flung  herself  on  the  bed,  and 
wept — for  the  second  time  on  this  eventful  day. 

*  I  wasn't  cross  !'  she  sobbed.     '  No,   I  wasn't. 
They  don't  understand.' 


CHAPTER  V 

AMY  FAIRBOURNE'S  stock  of  romance  had  been 
exhausted  for  many  years  by  her  early  love  affair 
with  the  impossible  William.  She  had  made 
hysterical  vows  at  the  time,  wept  copiously,  and 
emerged  from  the  briefest  retirement  decency 
allowed  with  crape  on  her  gown — she  barred  the 
widow's  cap,  which  was  really  too  much — and  the 
most  sensible  of  sentiments  towards  men.  In 
future  she  was  going  to  be  practical.  So  she 
married  Fairbourne,  by  her  father's  advice,  for 
money,  and  if,  after  all,  he  had  not  left  her  as  well 
off  as  she  had  hoped,  she  could  afford  most  of  the 
luxuries  of  life  in  moderation,  and  the  episode  of 
William  was  buried  under  a  cheap  headstone  at 
Kensal  Green. 

In  the  folly  of  her  girlhood  she  had  thrown 
herself  away,  in  the  materialism  of  maturity  she 
had  sold  herself  ;  but  she  had  not  yet  given  her- 
self, which  was  quite  another  matter.  It  was 
reserved  for  the  verge  of  middle  age,  when  a 
woman's  passions  are  often  keener  than  in  youth, 

32 


ROSABEL  33 

to  bring  her  Alec  Aylmer  and  the  love  of  her 
life. 

If  she  had  asked  no  more  of  fate  at  this  date  than 
an  agreeable  companion  with  a  sufficient  income, 
she  would  have  been  glad  enough  to  marry  him. 
His  appearance,  his  wit,  his  manners,  charmed  her 
equally.  But  she  was  in  love  even  to  the  degree  of 
making  sacrifices  had  sacrifices  been  required. 
Thank  God,  he  was  eminently  desirable — that  was 
part  of  his  attraction.  The  day  of  William  had 
long  gone  by. 

Aylmer,  for  his  part,  had  lounged  into  the  posi- 
tion of  habitue  at  Great  Cumberland  Place  through 
laziness  as  much  as  inclination.  She  kept  on  asking 
him,  so  he  kept  on  going.  Besides,  she  amused  him, 
and  it  is  natural  to  the  average  man  to  like  a  woman 
who  is  not  ashamed  of  showing  a  decided  preference 
for  his  society.  And  he  met  amusing  people  at  her 
house. 

How  the  idea  of  marrying  her  had  entered  his 
head,  he  scarcely  knew  himself.  It  had  come 
without  any  shock  of  discovery.  Had  anyone 
asked  him  if  he  were  in  love,  he  would  have  thought 
a  moment,  probably,  and  answered  no.  Yet  he 
was  always  glad  to  be  with  her.  She  had  a  great 
deal  of  tact,  and  could  amuse  a  dinner-table,  and 
he  was  growing  tired  of  living  alone. 

But  he  was  in  no  hurry,  and  sometimes  his  dalli- 
ance irritated  her.  Yesterday,  for  instance,  he  had 

3 


34  ROSABEL 

had  several  good  opportunities  of  approaching  the 
point.  She  had  let  him  lend  her  money,  and  had 
taken  a  solitary  walk  with  him,  and  in  the  twilight 
on  the  river  going  home  he  might  have  whispered 
a  great  many  things  instead  of  discoursing  aloud  on 
politics.  For  once  he  had  bored  her.  She  was 
growing  impatient.  There  was  the  question  of 
money,  too. 

She  was  thinking  it  out  in  bed,  with  a  vertical 
line  between  her  brows,  on  the  morning  after  the 
launch  party. 

If  she  did  not  marry  Aylmer  soon,  she  would  have 
to  pay  him,  and  her  position  was  worse  than  she 
had  admitted.  It  was  impossible  to  live  on  nothing 
in  Great  Cumberland  Place  and  keep  up  with  an 
extravagant  set.  At  the  best  of  times  she  found  it 
difficult  enough  not  to  have  to  go  without  things 
she  wanted  on  two  thousand  a  year.  The  addition 
of  Aylmer's  three  thousand  would  make  a  com- 
fortable income.  And  she  would  not  be  obliged 
to  liquidate  her  debt — a  great  consideration. 

'  I  must  get  him  up  to  the  mark  this  week,'  she 
told  herself.  '  Of  course,  he  is  fond  of  me.' 

She  paused  after  uttering  this  statement  aloud, 
and  repeated  it  with  an  air  of  aggression,  as  though 
someone  had  contradicted  her.  It  would  have  been 
more  flattering  to  her  vanity,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
if  he  had  shown  some  eagerness.  He  must  not  feel 
too  sure.  Perhaps  a  flirtation  in  another  quarter 
would  be  judicious. 


ROSABEL  35 

There  was  a  little  pile  of  letters  lying  beside  her 
cup  of  tea,  and  she  began  to  open  them.  Three 
invitations,  a  bill,  a  note  from  a  particular  friend, 
and  a  letter  bearing  the  postmark  of  Torquay. 

'  Aunt  Eliza,'  she  murmured. 

The  writing  was  not  Aunt  Eliza's,  but  Miss 
Dudgeon  never  wrote  her  own  letters.  She  dic- 
tated to  a  companion. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  opened  the  envelope,  anticipat- 
ing a  request  to  match  a  pattern  of  impossible 
material. 

*  DEAR  MRS.  FAIRBOURNE, 

'  I  am  grieved  to  inform  you  that  your  aunt, 
Miss  Eliza  Dudgeon,  died  suddenly  at  4.30  p.m.  I 
am  writing  by  the  same  post  to  the  lawyers.  If 
you  intend  to  come  down,  perhaps  you  will  kindly 

send  me  a  wire. 

'  Yours  faithfully, 

*  MARY  BATEMAN.' 

The  letter  was  of  yesterday's  date. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  turned  pale.  The  news  of  death, 
anyone's  death,  is  always  a  shock. 

Then  she  grew  pink.  It  would  be  convenient, 
at  this  moment,  to  inherit  fifty  thousand  pounds. 

Golden  visions  appeared  to  her.  She  began  to 
feel  *  good.'  All  sorts  of  things  that  she  wanted 
badly,  and  many  that  it  would  be  nice  to  have, 
recurred  to  her  mind.  She  would  have  an  electric 

3—2 


36  ROSABEL 

brougham,  which  is  so  much  more  useful  than  a 
pair  of  horses  to  a  woman  who  goes  out  a  great 
deal,  and  refurnish  the  boudoir.  And  she  would 
not  go  down  to  Torquay.  What  was  the  use  of 
depressing  herself  needlessly  ?  The  lawyers  could 
attend  to  the  funeral  arrangements.  She  could  do 
no  good  whatever  if  she  went. 

Having  mapped  out  her  plans  with  her  usual 
decision,  she  rose  at  once  and  wrote  a  polite  reply 
to  Miss  Bateman's  letter,  and  another  to  the  soli- 
citors who  had  charge  of  Miss  Dudgeon's  affairs. 
Then  she  went  out  to  order  mourning.  Fortunately, 
she  looked  well  in  black,  and  there  would  be  no 
necessity  to  have  crape  for  an  aunt  whom  nobody 
knew. 

Alighting  from  her  victoria  at  the  door  of  a 
famous  *  mourning '  house  in  Regent  Street,  she 
encountered  Alec  Aylmer. 

*  You  have  recovered  ?'  he  inquired. 

'  Recovered  ?'  she  repeated  vaguely.  '  Oh  yes.' 
She  had  really  forgotten  for  the  moment  what  had 
happened  yesterday.  *  I  have  had  news  this 
morning,'  she  added,  *  which  has  driven  every- 
thing else  into  the  background.  Aunt  Eliza  is 
dead.' 

*  Indeed.     I  condole  with  you,'  he  said  conven- 
tionally. 

*  I  am  just  going  to  Kay's  to  order  clothes,'  she 
said.     '  I  think  mourning  is  a  relic  of  barbarism, 


ROSABEL  37 

but  one  must  respect  the  prejudices  of  an  aunt  who 
leaves  fifty  thousand  pounds.' 

'  Then  I  am  to  congratulate  as  well  as  to  condole  ?' 
he  asked. 

'  I  haven't  heard  about  the  will  yet,'  she  answered, 
'  but  I  am  quite  easy.  There  are  people  who  never 
dream  of  leaving  their  money  out  of  "  the  family," 
and  she  was  one  of  them.  I  am  the  only  relative 
she  had  in  the  world.' 

'  Well,  fifty  thousand  pounds  is  a  comfortable  sum.' 

It  would  be  very  comfortable.  She  was  none  the 
less  resolved  to  marry  the  urbane  gentleman  who 
stood  talking  to  her  on  the  pavement.  He  looked 
very  handsome  this  morning,  quite  someone  to  be 
proud  of,  and  when  their  eyes  met  by  chance  her 
heart  beat  like  a  girl's. 

'  I  shall  cancel  my  engagements  for  a  week  or 
two,'  she  said,  '  but  that  won't  prevent  my  being 
at  home  to  my  best  friends.  Are  you  engaged  for 
this  evening  ?' 

'  Unfortunately,  yes.' 

'  Then  lunch  to-morrow  ?' 

'  Thanks.' 

They  parted  with  a  tender  glance  on  the  woman's 
part,  and  a  responsive  pressure  of  the  hand  on  the 
man's. 

*  He  is  a  dear  fellow,'  she  murmured.  '  Really,  I 
like  him  very  much.' 

If  she  were  not  already  in  love  she  would  have 


38  ROSABEL 

been  in  love  this  morning.     Fifty  thousand  pounds 
made  her  heart  so  soft. 

All  the  afternoon  she  was  occupied  with  dress- 
makers and  milliners.  She  dined  alone.  By  the 
last  post  came  a  letter  from  the  solicitors,  as  she  had 
expected ;  but  it  was  registered,  and  contained  an 
enclosure,  which  she  had  not  expected. 

'  DEAR  MADAM, 

'  We  have  the  honour  to  inform  you  that 
the  late  Miss  Eliza  Dudgeon,  by  her  last  will,  has 
bequeathed  to  you,  on  certain  conditions,  a  life 
interest  in  her  entire  estate,  valued  roughly  at 
fifty-one  thousand  pounds.  Our  junior  partner, 
Mr.  Gell,  will  be  pleased  to  see  you  either  here  or 
at  your  own  address,  as  you  may  appoint,  to  read 
the  will  to  you  and  receive  your  instructions. 

'  Our  senior  partner,  Mr.  Geary,  as  executor  of 
Miss  Eliza  Dudgeon,  has  despatched  a  representa- 
tive to  Torquay  to  wind  up  her  affairs  and  make 
the  necessary  arrangements  for  the  funeral,  which 
will  be  communicated  to  you  in  due  course. 

*  Meanwhile,  we  beg  to  forward  you  the  enclosed 
packet,  placed  in  our  hands  some  months  ago  by 
Miss  Eliza  Dudgeon,  with  instructions  that  it 
should  be  delivered  to  you  at  her  death. 

'  Awaiting  your  reply, 

'We  remain,  madam, 

'  Yours  faithfully, 

'  GEARY  AND  GELL.' 


ROSABEL  39 

A  pensive  expression  dawned  on  Mrs.  Fairbourne's 
face.  It  ended  with  a  frown. 

'  A  life  interest !'  she  repeated.  '  Only  a  life 
interest !  Conditions  /' 

She  became  suddenly  afraid  of  the  enclosure, 
which  was  sealed  and  addressed  in  a  shaky  hand, 
as  though  the  old  woman  had  written  it  herself. 
The  touch  of  drama  supplied  by  this  message  from 
the  grave  affected  her  unpleasantly.  Aunt  Eliza 
had  never  had  anything  agreeable  to  say  to  her  in 
her  life.  Why  had  she  written  ? 

'  Conditions,'  murmured  Mrs.  Fairbourne  again— 
'  conditions !' 

A  queer  sensation  came  over  her,  as  sometimes 
happened  when  a  thunderstorm  was  brewing.  She 
felt  certain  that  she  would  not  like  what  she  Was 
about  to  read.  But  it  was  useless  to  postpone  the 
inevitable.  She  was  curious,  too.  Nevertheless, 
before  breaking  the  seal,  she  walked  to  the  window, 
and  threw  it  open  wider  to  the  soft  breaths  of  air 
which  found  their  way  down  the  street  from  the  Park. 

'  MY  DEAR  AMY,'  she  read, 

'  We  have  never  liked  each  other.  Let  that 
pass.  I  am  an  old  woman  ;  you  still  call  yourself 
a  young  one,  I  understand.  You  think  I  am  a 
dowd  ;  what  I  think  of  you  is  stated  below.  Never- 
theless, I  am  concerned  for  your  soul.  If  I  had 
nothing  to  leave,  I  should  not  waste  time  in  re- 


4o 


ROSABEL 


iterating  my  opinion  of  your  behaviour  concerning 
a  matter  upon  which  we  have  always  disagreed. 
But  as  the  testatrix  of  fifty  thousand  pounds  I  can 
purchase  your  attention,  at  least. 

'  It  is  my  request  that  you  should  publicly 
acknowledge  your  daughter  born  in  lawful  wedlock, 
take  her  to  live  with  you  until  she  marries,  and  try 
to  repair  your  disgraceful  neglect  of  her  in  the  past. 
As  reward,  I  leave  you  the  life  interest  of  my 
estate,  the  capital  to  devolve  upon  her  at  your 
death.  If  you  refuse  to  perform  this  obvious  duty, 
which  only  false  pride,  egotism,  and  heartless  in- 
difference to  the  most  ordinary  maternal  instinct 
could  have  induced  you  to  disregard  so  long,  Rosabel 
will  inherit  my  estate  at  once,  and  you  will  be  left 
out.  It  is  for  you  to  choose. 

*  Your  affectionate  aunt, 

'  ELIZA  DUDGEON.' 

For  fully  half  a  minute  Mrs.  Fairbourne  did  not 
stir.  The  shock  was  so  great  that  she  was  stunned. 

Then  she  crushed  the  letter  in  her  hands,  with  a 
hissing  sound  such  as  a  cat  makes  when  it  spits.  If 
Aylmer  had  seen  her  at  this  moment,  he  would  not 
have  thought  her  charming.  The  true  woman, 
greedy,  selfish,  venomous,  glittered  in  her  eyes. 

*  The  old  beast !'  she  exclaimed.  *  The  old  devil ! 
She  has  done  it  on  purpose  to  spite  me.  My  soul, 
forsooth  !' 


ROSABEL  41 

She  rose,  inhaling  a  deep  breath  of  passion.  She 
saw  nothing  but  malice  in  Miss  Dudgeon's  testa- 
ment. As  the  sour  old  maid  could  not  take  her 
money  with  her,  she  had  done  her  best  to  make  her 
heir  smart  for  it. 

'  If  the  girl  were  a  baby  still  it  wouldn't  matter,' 
mused  Mrs.  Fairbourne,  clawing  at  her  handker- 
chief in  hysterical  rage  till  the  hem  gave  way.  '  But 
a  grown  woman — a  woman  looking  full  her  age  and 
more  .  .  .  after  all  these  years  !' 

She  closed  her  eyes,  and  recalled  the  image  of 
Rosabel  at  the  inn — Rosabel,  who  had  mended  her 
gown.  And  this  insane  old  woman  actually  pro- 
posed that  she  should  take  up  this  girl,  reeking  of 
beer,  and  present  her,  without  explanation,  to  the 
world  of  art  and  letters  ! 

'  It  is  a  plot  for  a  farce — or  a  tragedy,'  she  moaned. 
1  Good  God  !  what  is  one  to  do  ?' 

Fifty  thousand  pounds  was  a  lot  of  money.  If 
only  a  small  sum  had  been  at  stake,  she  would  have 
let  it  go,  hard  up  as  she  was,  and  trusted  to  Aylmer 
to  come  to  the  rescue. 

Fifty  thousand  pounds  ! 

She  cried  by-and-by.  She  had  not  done  such  a 
weak  thing  for  years,  but  the  situation  was  beyond 
her.  Her  only  hope  was  for  an  evasion  of  some 
sort. 

She  sent  for  Aylmer  in  the  morning.  Her  clever- 
ness was  quite  aware  that  a  man  likes  to  be  appealed 


42  ROSABEL 

to  for  advice  by  the  woman  for  whom  he  has  a 
penchant. 

His  prompt  arrival  found  her  white-faced  and 
plaintive  after  a  sleepless  night. 

'  What  do  you  think  of  me,'  she  asked, '  for  bother- 
ing you  ?  But  I  am  worried  to  death,  and  I  have 
no  man  belonging  to  me.' 

*  You  know,'  he  said,   '  how  delighted  I  am  to 
serve  you  in  any  way.     What  has  gone  wrong  ?' 

'  My  expectations,'  she  said.  '  I  always  knew 
that  Aunt  Eliza  was  an  old  cat,  but  she  has  served 
me  the  most  exasperating  trick  conceivable.  She 
has  left  me  a  life  interest  only  in  her  money — a  life 
interest,  and  conditional.  I  have  to  acknowledge 
Rosabel.' 

'  What  ?'  he  exclaimed.     *  Your  daughter  ?' 

She  whimpered. 

*  Did  you  ever  hear  anything  like  it  ?     I  am  so 
disgusted  and  angry  that  I  don't  know  what  to  do.' 

Aylmer  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  crossed  his 
legs. 

'  Let  us  be  calm,'  he  said.  '  On  the  one  side  we 
have  to  consider  some  two  thousand  a  year,  I  pre- 
sume ;  on  the  other— William's  daughter.  You'd 
like  the  money  ?' 

*  Of  course  I  should.' 

'  It's  a  great  deal,  certainly.'  He  swung  a  patent- 
leather  boot.  '  Well,  why  not  ?  Your  course  is 
obvious.  You  must  take  the  girl.' 


ROSABEL  43 

'  It's  easy  for  you  to  talk  !'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne 
fractiously. 

His  amusement  refused  to  be  stifled  any  longer. 

*  Why  ?     Is  she  so  objectionable  ?     I  thought  she 
was  rather  pretty.' 

*  You  laugh  at  everything  !'  she  said.     '  You  are 
the  worst  confidant  I  ever  came  across  !' 

'  My  dear  Amy,'  he  said,  '  bring  your  sense  of 
humour  to  bear  upon  the  proposition,  and  you  will 
laugh  also  !' 

'  I  have  been  crying,'  she  declared. 

'  Really  ?  I  don't  believe  it !  You  are  too  much 
the  woman  of  the  world.  After  all,  you  will  be 
well  paid.' 

'  Everyone  will  wonder  so,'  she  said.  '  How  shall 
I  account  for  *  keeping  her  in  the  dark  all  these 
years  ?' 

*  Ah  !  there  you  have  me  on  toast.     Would  it  be 
possible  to  tell  the  truth  by  any  chance  ?' 

'  The  truth  ?'  she  queried  uncertainly. 

'  Not  possible,  you  think  ?'  His  tone  was  a  trifle 
subtle.  Was  there  also  a  sub-current  of  malice 
beneath  the  humour  in  his  eyes  ?  '  Perhaps  you  are 
right.  It  is  useless,  as  you  say,  to  be  original  in 
these  days.' 

She  was  considering,  and  did  not  notice  him. 

'  Oh,  I  won't  have  her  !'  she  cried.  '  It  would  be 
too  ridiculous  !' 

'  Don't  let   me  persuade   you,'   he   said  lightly. 


44 


ROSABEL 


'  In  such  a  matter — a  matter  of  inclination,-  a 
matter  of  the  heart — every  soul  must  be  its  own 
dictator.' 

'  How  flippant  you  are  !*  she  said,  frowning. 
'  Is  this  what  you  call  giving  me  serious  advice  ?' 

'  You  wrong  me,'  he  continued.  '  I  am  the  most 
serious  man  in  London.' 

She  laughed  at  last,  and  he  laughed  ;  but  her 
mirth  rang  hollow,  and  she  checked  herself  abruptly. 

'  Sometimes  I  don't  understand  you  a  bit,'  she 
said.  *  Perhaps  you  were  serious,  after  all  ?  You 
alluded  to  a  "  matter  of  the  heart."  Of  course, 
there  is  no  question  of  "  heart  "  about  it.  I  don't 
believe  in  natural  feeling.  Why  should  I  feel 
maternal  towards  a  grown  girl  I  have  only 
seen  once,  by  accident,  since  she  was  an  infant, 
just  because  I  happen  to  have  given  birth  to 
her?' 

*  Don't  scold  me,'  said  Aylmer.  '  I  say  nothing. 
It  is  your  own  affair.' 

'  What  shall  I  do  ?'  she  insisted. 

He  smiled  again. 

•'  Just  what  you  like — as  we  all  do.' 

'  I  have  been  spending  the  extra  two  thousand  a 
year,'  she  said.  *  I  really  can't  give  it  up.  What 
will  she  think  ?' 

'  She  will  welcome  the  change,  no  doubt,  from  the 
Angler's  Inn  to  Great  Cumberland  Place.' 

'  If  I  were  a  rich  woman  I  wouldn't  contemplate 


ROSABEL  45 

it  for  a  moment,'  she  sighed ;  '  but,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances  ' 

'  You  will  ?' 

*  I  suppose  I  must.     But  it  is  most  aggravating.' 

'  The  next  time  I  come,'  he  said,  '  I  shall  find 
Miss  Rosabel  here  !  Can  I  be  of  any  assistance  in 
the  matter  ?' 

'  There  is  nothing  to  do.  I  shall  write  to  the 
solicitors,  and  say  that  I  accept  the  conditions — and 
fetch  Rosabel.' 

'  Do  let  me  come  with  you,'  he  begged  mischiev- 
ously. 

'  Certainly  not !'  she  replied. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AFTER  all  she  did  not  fetch  Rosabel.  The  prospect 
of  such  a  dramatic  return  to  the  Angler's  Inn  was 
too  much  for  her.  She  requested  Mr.  Cell  to  nego- 
tiate the  matter.  As  he  had  been  the  medium 
of  communication  throughout,  it  seemed  a  proper 
proceeding  to  her  mind. 

The  lawyer  went.  He  was  middle-aged,  dapper,  a 
bit  of  a  swell,  and  he  ran  down  from  the  office  to  the 
riverside  village  one  afternoon  in  a  silk  hat  and  a 
frock  coat. 

Rosabel  happened  to  be  the  first  person  he  saw  on 
reaching  the  Angler's  Inn,  and  he  guessed  who  she 
was  at  once. 

'  I  have  private  business  with  Mrs.  Collins,'  he 
said.  '  Will  you  kindly  give  her  my  card  and  ask 
if  I  can  see  her  ?' 

He  gazed  at  the  girl  curiously  as  she  took  it. 
Rosabel  despaired  of  herself  unnecessarily.  There 
was  nothing  common  in  her  appearance,  and  to-day, 
in  a  cotton  blouse,  she  looked  both  pretty  and 
refined. 

46 


ROSABEL  47 

She  conducted  him  to  the  bar  parlour,  which  was 
empty,  while  she  went  to  fetch  her  aunt.  The  card 
told  her  that  the  dapper  gentleman  was  a  lawyer, 
but  she  had  no  reason  to  suspect  that  his  visit  con- 
cerned herself,  and  returned  to  continue  feeding  a 
pair  of  magnificent  cart-horses  with  sugar. 

Probably  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  passed  when 
Mrs.  Collins  came  out. 

*  Rosabel,'  she  said,  '  go  into  the  parlour.  The 
gentleman  wants  to  speak  to  you.' 

The  woman's  voice  was  tremulous  and  subdued, 
and  her  florid  complexion  had  faded  a  trifle.  Ob- 
viously something  had  happened. 

'  He  wants  to  speak  to  me  !'  repeated  Rosabel  in 
surprise. 

'  Yes  ;  he's  a  lawyer,  you  know — the  lawyer  who 
always  sends  your  money.' 

Rosabel  looked  at  her  aunt  earnestly  under  her 
lashes,  and  plaited  the  corner  of  her  muslin  apron. 

'  What  has  he  come  for  ?' 

'  He'll  tell  you.     Go  along.' 

The  girl  went  indoors,  and  opened  the  parlour- 
door  slowly.  Mr.  Cell,  standing  at  the  window, 
turned  to  greet  her  with  amiable  speculation. 

'  I  thought,'  he  said,  '  that  you  must  be  Miss 
Rosabel !  I  have  come  down  from  London  on 
business  of  yours.  Let  me  introduce  myself.  My 
name  is  Gell,  of  Geary  and  Gell.  We  are — er — Mrs. 
Fairbourne's  solicitors.' 


48  ROSABEL 

*  Who  is  Mrs.  Fairbourne  ?'  inquired  Rosabel. 

'  Why,  your  mother,  to  be  sure  !'  he  said,  sur- 
prised and  amused. 

The  girl  stood  at  the  table,  with  red  cheeks  and 
lowering  brows. 

4  What  is  the  matter  ?'  she  asked. 

Her  brusqueness  was  disconcerting.  Neverthe- 
less, he  renewed  an  ill-timed  geniality. 

'  Won't  you  sit  down,  Miss  Carpenter  ?  We 
should  be  able  to  talk  more  comfortably.' 

Rosabel  took  a  chair  at  the  table,  and  Mr.  Gell 
seated  himself  opposite. 

*  I  am  here,'  he  resumed,  *  at  Mrs.  Fairbourne's 
request,  to  make  a  communication  to  you  which 
will  lead  to  important  changes  in  your  life.     You 
are  aware,  I  presume,  of  the  history  of  your  birth  ?' 

He  might  have  been  the  family  lawyer  of  the 
stage,  but  he  had  no  sense  of  humour,  and  Rosabel 
read  novelettes. 

*  She  ran  away  with  my  father,  and  was  ashamed 
of  it  afterwards,'  said  Rosabel,  *  so  she  didn't  want 
me,  because  I  was  his  daughter.' 

*  You  put  it  harshly,  Miss  Carpenter.' 

'  I  don't  see  any  other  way  of  putting  it,'  said 
Rosabel. 

'  She  was  very  young,  and  obeyed  her  father,  and 
afterwards  her  husband — her  second  husband,'  cor- 
rected the  diplomatic  Gell  gently.  '  You  must 
make  allowances,  my  dear  young  lady— indeed,  you 


ROSABEL  49 

must.     Of  course,  you  know  that  she  has  always 
supported  you  ?' 

Rosabel  nodded,  and  stirred  impatiently. 

'  She  would  have  come  herself  this  afternoon  but 
for  the  awkwardness  of  taking  you  unprepared, 
especially  after  her  visit  the  other  day.' 

'  What  visit  ?'  demanded  the  girl. 

'  It  was  on  Wednesday,  I  believe.  She  was  with 
a  gentleman.' 

Rosabel's  red  face  turned  white. 

'  Is  she  fair  and  pale,  with  golden  hair  ?'  she 
asked  breathlessly.  '  Did  she  wear  a  blue  dress 
trimmed  with  lace,  and  a  picture  hat  ?' 

'  I  don't  know  about  the  attire,'  said  Mr.  Gell, 
'  but  the  rest  of  the  description  is  correct.' 

Odd  little  twitches  caught  Rosabel's  brows,  her 
nostrils,  the  muscles  of  her  mouth.  She  sat  silent, 
staring  at  the  lawyer. 

*  She  wants  you  to  go  and  live  with  her,'  he  said 
deliberately,  '  at  her  house  in  Great  Cumberland 
Place,  London.' 

'  She  really  wants  me  ?' 

'  Yes  ;  she  will  be  ready  to  receive  you  as  soon  as 
you  can  come.  I  was  to  tell  you  so.' 

A  look  of  surprise  came  into  the  girl's  eyes.  She 
was  stirred  to  the  heart  by  a  misconception,  which 
was  natural  enough.  Her  lips  trembled  ;  she  could 
not  speak.  Her  face  was  transfigured  by  a  holy 
radiance. 


50  ROSABEL 

She  thought  that  this  lovely  lady,  who  was  her 
mother,  had  taken  a  fancy  to  her,  and  that  the 
promptings  of  maternal  love,  awakened  at  last,  had 
dictated  the  lawyer's  visit. 

Mr.  Gell  was  not  an  imaginative  man. 

'  You  see,'  he  continued,  '  there  is  a  large  sum  of 
money  involved.  Your  mother's  aunt,  Miss  Eliza 
Dudgeon,  of  Torquay,  has  left  her  the  income  of 
fifty  thousand  pounds  on  condition  that  she  acknow- 
ledges you ' 

His  voice  turned  to  a  meaningless  buzz  in  Rosa- 
bel's ears.  Only  when,  at  the  end  of  his  speech,  he 
repeated  a  sentence  twice,  did  she  understand  that 
he  was  congratulating  her  on  being  heiress  to  fifty 
thousand  pounds. 

*  You  mean  that  I  get  fifty  thousand  pounds  at— 
at  Mrs.  Fairbourne's  death  ?'  she  asked  at  last. 

'  Yes.     A  nice  sum,  Miss  Carpenter.' 
'  I  can't  have  any  of  it  now,  can  I  ?' 
'  No  ;  but  as  you  will  reside  with  your  mother, 
you  will  not  require  it.' 
Rosabel  looked  up. 

*  Suppose  I  don't  want  to  live  with  my  mother  ?' 
she  queried. 

'  We  won't  assume  anything  so  improbable,' 
replied  Mr.  Gell,  slightly  taken  aback,  nevertheless. 
'  Of  course,  you  will  be  glad  to  exchange  your 
present  surroundings  for  your  mother's  home. 
You  may  not  be  aware  that  Mrs.  Fairbourne  resides 


ROSABEL  51 

in  the  most  fashionable  part  of  London,  with  all 
the  elegance  and  luxury  suited  to  her  birth  and 
position.  Your  mode  of  existence  would  be  very 
different  from  what  you  are  accustomed  to 
here.' 

The  girl's  eyes  brooded  on  the  lawyer's  face.  She 
had  a  child-like  way  of  staring  sometimes,  which 
disconcerted  the  person  stared  at  without  revealing 
the  least  self-consciousness  on  her  part. 

*  But  suppose,'  she  persisted,  '  I  don't  want  to 
live  with  her  ?  She  can't  make  me,  can  she  ?' 

'  Until  you  are  of  age,  or  married,  your  mother  is 
your  legal  guardian,  and  you  must  obey  her.'  He 
hesitated.  '  When  you  are  twenty-one  it  will  be 
in  your  power  to  release  her  formally  from  the 
obligation  imposed  by  Miss  Dudgeon's  will.  I 
mean,  that  if  you  did  not  choose  to  live  with  your 
mother,  and  you  signed  a  paper  to  that  effect,  she 
would  not  lose  her  life  interest  in  the  money,  because 
the  separation  would  be  your  fault.' 

'I  see,'  said  Rosabel.  *  Then  all  I  have  to  do  is 
to  wait  till  I  am  twenty-one.  Two  years  isn't  so 
very  long  !' 

He  thought  her  a  sullen,  ungracious,  and  stupid 
girl.  She  seemed  to  prefer  the  gutter  to  the  draw- 
ing-room ;  the  force  of  heredity,  no  doubt.  Never- 
theless, he  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  add  a  note  of 
warning. 

'  But  you  must  understand  that  if  you  elect,  at 

4—2 


52  ROSABEL 

any  age,  to  leave  the  home  your  mother  provides 
she  is  not  obliged  to  support  you.' 

*  That  wouldn't  matter,'  said  Rosabel.     '  I   air 
used  to  being  a  servant.     My  aunt  would  take  me 
back — or  I  could  find  another  place.' 

*  I  prophesy  that   you  will  change  your  mine 
when  you  have  tasted  the  pleasures  of  wealth,'  saic 
the  lawyer,  rising.     *  However,  the  future  is  for  youi 
own  consideration.     The  present  is  what  concerns 
us  at  the  moment.     Mrs.  Fairbourne  wishes  to  kno\\ 
when  she  is  to  expect  you.     Shall  I  say  to-morrow 
afternoon  ?' 

'  I  don't  care,'  said  Rosabel  reluctantly. 

Mr.  Gell  extended  his  hand  with  a  half-smile. 

'  Ah,  my  dear  young  lady,  when  you  are  a  little 
older,  you  will  appreciate  your  good  fortune  !' 

Rosabel  accompanied  him  to  the  door. 

Directly  he  had  gone,  her  uncle  and  aunt  came 
out  of  the  bar. 

'  I'm  to  go  to  my  mother  to-morrow,'  said 
Rosabel. 

*  What  ?     Really  !'  exclaimed    Mrs.    Collins.     '  I 
couldn't  believe  it.' 

She  was  all  of  a  twitter  with  excitement. 

'  And  what's  this  about  fifty  thousand  pounds  ?' 
asked  Collins. 

'  I'm  to  have  fifty  thousand  pounds  when  my 
mother  dies.' 

'  From  a  great-aunt  you've  never  seen  nor  heard 


ROSABEL  53 

of,  too,'  added  Mrs.  Collins.  *  Well,  it  do  seem 
strange  !  Just  like  one  of  the  stories  you're  always 
readin',  Rosabel.' 

'  You'll  be  like  a  young  princess,'  said  Collins. 

The  respect  which  the  serving  class,  above  all 
others,  pays  to  mere  money  was  already  visible  in 
his  manner  towards  his  wife's  niece.  No  merit} 
moral  or  intellectual,  on  Rosabel's  part  could  have 
inspired  a  similar  regard  in  the  ex-butler's  breast. 

'  I  wonder  how  many  servants  she  keeps  !' 

*  I  never  saw  such  a  lucky  girl,'  said  his  wife. 

'  Oh  yes,  I'm  very  lucky,'  said  Rosabel.  She 
laughed. 

'  What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  with  you  now  ?' 
asked  Mrs.  Collins.  *  You've  always  had  your  nose 
in  the  air,  and  now  you're  going  to  be  a  lady  and 
live  on  the  fat  of  the  land.  What  can  you  want 
more  ?' 

As  usual,  when  her  '  tone  '  was  the  subject  of 
complaint,  Rosabel  shut  her  mouth,  and  made  no 
reply. 

'  What  more  can  you  want,  I  say  ?'  repeated  her 
aunt,  with  exasperation. 

Two  young  gentlemen  arrived  at  that  moment, 
demanding  tea.  The  heiress  to  fifty  thousand 
pounds  went  away,  without  more  ado,  to  wait  on 
them. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ALL  night  Rosabel  lay  awake  thinking  of  to-morrow. 
She  had  already  packed  her  clothes  and  the  few 
trifles,  in  the  way  of  birthday  and  Christmas  presents, 
which  she  cared  to  keep.  In  the  morning  there 
would  be  nothing  to  do  except  to  say  good-bye  to 
the  only  real  friend  she  had  in  the  neighbour- 
hood— a  lame  girl,  the  daughter  of  the  village 
organist. 

She  did  not  feel  at  all  excited.  On  the  contrary, 
there  was  a  weight  on  her  heart.  The  thought  of 
meeting  her  mother  quite  counterbalanced  the 
material  advantages  of  the  change.  Her  mother 
did  not  really  want  her.  Had  it  been  otherwise, 
as  she  had  imagined  at  first,  the  girl  would  have 
been  glad  enough  to  go.  But  she  saw  plainly  that 
she  was  being  forced  upon  a  woman  to  whom  her 
presence  would  be  only  less  distasteful  than  the 
loss  of  a  large  income.  She  would  be  entering  a 
new  world  among  strangers,  who  would  regard  her 
either  as  a  nuisance  or  a  joke,  to  live  a  life  of  com- 
parative splendour  without  love. 

54 


ROSABEL  55 

If  she  had  been  still  a  child,  it  would  not  have 
mattered.  She  would  have  had  a  proper  educa- 
tion, she  would  have  taken  root  naturally  in  the 
new  soil,  and  grown  up  an  equal  among  her  mother's 
class.  But  she  was  too  old  to  go  to  school.  With 
habits  and  ideas  already  formed,  she  was  to  be 
thrown  into  this  new  world  unprepared,  at  the  sen- 
sitive and  self-conscious  age  of  budding  woman- 
hood. 

When  she  heard  the  birds  twittering  at  the  window 
in  the  dawn,  a  lump  came  to  her  throat,  and  she 
realized  for  the  first  time  that  this  place  which  she 
had  despised  so  much  was  home.  She  was  not 
looked  down  on  here.  Her  aunt  had  shown  her 
affection,  and  the  man  had  always  been  kind. 

It  was  natural  that  she  should  fall  asleep  at  last, 
and  come  down  to  breakfast  late.  It  was  even 
more  natural  that  nobody  should  scold  her.  The 
glamour  of  young  ladyhood  was  over  her.  Collins 
cut  her  bread-and-butter,  and  her  aunt  fetched  her 
fresh  tea.  All  the  morning,  too,  they  stole  furtive 
glances  at  her  as  though  she  were  a  queen.  She 
was  not  expected  to  put  her  hand  to  anything  ;  and 
again,  as  on  her  eventful  birthday,  there  was  her 
favourite  pudding  for  dinner,  and  a  small  bottle  of 
sweet,  champagne. 

Afterwards  she  said  good-bye  to  the  dog,  to  the 
cat  and  kitten,  the  fowls  which  she  had  fed  so  many 
times,  the  orchard,  and  the  stable-yard,  At  three 


56  ROSABEL 

o'clock  a  barrow  came  to  the  door  to  wheel  the  little 
shabby  tin  trunk,  which  her  aunt  had  given  her,  to 
the  station. 

The  woman  threw  her  arms  round  the  girl's  neck, 
and  broke  into  loud  weeping. 

'  You'll  forget  us  now,'  she  said.  '  You'll  never 
come  to  the  Angler's  Inn  again.' 

'  Of  course  I  shall  come  to  see  you,  aunt,'  said 
Rosabel. 

'  You  know  I  was  always  fond  of  you,  Rosabel. 
I'm  awful  sorry  you're  goin'.  If  I've  scolded  some- 
times, it's  been  the  fault  of  your  own  queer  sulky 
temper,  though*  Gawd  knows,  I  don't  want  to  go 
back  on  that  now  !' 

*  You've  been  very  kind  to  me,'  said  Rosabel, 
'  and  I  shall  come  soon.' 

She  returned  the  kisses,  and  felt  like  crying,  too  ; 
but  at  the  back  of  her  mind  was  a  memory  which 
restrained  the  tears.  She  could  not  help  wondering 
whether  her  aunt  would  have  been  as  sorry  to  part 
with  her  if  she  had  not  represented  a  hundred 
pounds  a  year. 

Collins  took  a  second-class  ticket  for  her,  and 
Rosabel  started  on  her  journey  with  a  piece  of 
paper  bearing  her  mother's  address  clasped  tightly 
in  her  hand.  She  had  only  been  to  London  a 
few  times  in  her  life,  and  then  merely  for  the  day  ; 
but  her  directions  were  explicit,  so  she  could  not 
get  lost.  She  was  to  take  a  cab,  on  arriving  at  Pad- 


ROSABEL  57 

dington,  and  drive  straight  to  Great  Cumberland 
Place. 

Throughout  the  journey  of  fifty  minutes  the  girl 
sat  erect  and  self-contained,  absorbed  in  thought. 
She  tried  to  fancy  how  her  mother  would  greet  her* 
and  what  the  house  would  be  like.  She  felt  like  a 
servant  going  to  a  new  place.  There  was  the  same 
uncertainty  about  her  reception  and  what  would  be 
expected  of  her,  the  same  sense  of  strangeness  and 
consciousness  of  her  new  gloves. 

She  went  about  her  business  methodically  on 
reaching  London.  Her  box  was  found  and  put  on 
a  four-wheeler,  and  the  address  given  to  the  cab- 
man. Then  the  roar  of  London  descended  upon 
her,  and  her  entity  seemed  to  be  caught  up  and 
whirled  along  like  a  straw  in  a  mighty  stream. 

She  saw  none  of  the  streets  through  which  she 
passed.  She  sat  in  the  cab  as  she  had  sat  in  the 
train,  rendered  drowsy  by  the  unreality  of  things. 
Only  when  they  turned  a  corner  on  which  she  saw 
Great  Cumberland  Place  written,  something  stirred 
sharply  within  the  girl  at  last,  and  her  apathy  gave 
way  to  a  sickening  suspense.  But,  as  usual  with 
her,  to  be  shy  was  to  show  no  more  than  an  accen- 
tuated impassiveness,  and  nobody  would  have 
guessed  how  her  heart  was  beating  when  the  door 
opened. 

She  was  expected.  Her  box  was  brought  into 
the  hall,  and  the  butler  conducted  her  upstairs. 


58  ROSABEL 

The  drawing-room  was  shaded  by  sun-blinds  and 
fragrant  with  the  scent  of  flowers.  A  vague  blur 
of  colour  and  the  rustle  of  silken  skirts  greeted 
Rosabel  as  Mrs.  Fairbourne  rose  from  the  couch. 

'  How  do  you  do,  Rosabel  ?'  said  a  soft,  low, 
cultivated  voice.  '  We  have  met  before,  you  see, 
but  you  did  not  know  me  !  I  hope  you  will  be 
happy  and  comfortable  with  me,  and  that  we  shall 
soon  be  good  friends.' 

Rosabel  said  nothing  at  all. 

After  a  brief  hesitation  the  lady,  flushing,  kissed 
her  daughter  on  the  cheek. 

'  Did  you  come  alone  ?'  she  asked. 

*  Yes,'  said  Rosabel. 

'  I  thought  they  would  have  sent  someone  with 
you.  Do  you  know  London  ?' 

*  Not  very  well.' 

*  Your  room  is  ready  for  you,'  added  Mrs.  Fair- 
bourne.     '  I  dare  say  you  would  like  to  take  off 
your  things  before  tea,  which  will  be  up  in  a  moment. 
My  maid  will  show  you  the  way.     Come  down  again 
when  you  are  ready.' 

'  Yes,  thank  you,'  said  Rosabel. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  touched  an  electric  bell  twice, 
and  in  the  moment  which  elapsed  before  a  smart 
lady's-maid  appeared,  neither  mother  nor  daughter 
spoke. 

'Show  my — Miss  Carpenter  to  her  room, 
Brace.' 


ROSABEL  59 

She  had  been  on  the  point  of  saying  'my daughter,' 
but  had  been  really  unable  to  bring  out  the  word. 
The  whole  affair  made  her  feel  so  queer — the  girl's 
silence  and  '  woodenness,'  which  was  sullen  rather 
than  gauche,  and  her  own  embarrassment — a  sen- 
sation strange  to  her.  She  had  intended  to  carry 
off  the  ordeal  with  a  light  hand,  but  had  failed  to 
attain  the  relieving  note  of  comedy  she  had  re- 
hearsed. Was  it  going  to  be  even  worse  than  she 
had  expected  ? 

She  sniffed  at  a  bottle  of  smelling-salts.  It  was 
absurd,  she  felt,  to  be  upset.  Two  thousand  a  year 
was  worth  a  little  unpleasantness.  She  would  soon 
grow  used  to  Rosabel. 

Her  self-command  had  returned,  and  she  was 
prepared  once  more  to  cope  with  the  situation  by 
the  time  someone  knocked  at  the  door. 

'  Come  in,'  she  said. 

Rosabel  entered.  She  had  removed  her  hat  and 
jacket,  and  washed  her  face.  Her  short,  ill-made 
skirt  and  thick-soled  shoes  looked  curiously  incon- 
gruous among  the  expensive  fripperies  of  the  London 
drawing-room,  and  the  girl  realized  it,  with  her 
usual  intuition,  and  her  eyes  clouded  still  more,  and 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  deepened. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne,  sitting  with  her  back  to  the 
light,  smiled  in  faint  amusement. 

'  You  need  not  knock  at  the  sitting-room  doors, 
Rosabel.' 


6o  ROSABEL 

Rosabel  crimsoned,  perceiving  that  she  had  made 
her  first  mistake. 

'  Come  and  sit  beside  me,'  added  Mrs.  Fairbourne, 
graciously  indicating  the  vacant  place  on  the 
couch.  '  Are  you  glad  or  sorry  to  leave  the  Angler's 
Inn?' 

Rosabel  considered. 

'  I  never  liked  it  very  much.' 

'  I  suppose  your  aunt  was  grieved  to  part  v/ith 
you  ?' 

'  She  said  so.' 

'  And  you  had  an  affection  for  her,  no  doubt  ? 
You  lived  with  her  a  great  many  years.  I  hope 
she  was  kind  to  you,  and  that  you  were  comfortable 
on  the  whole  ?' 

*  Yes,'  said  Rosabel. 

*  It's  a  pretty  part  of  the  country,'  continued 
Mrs.  Fairbourne,  in  the  pleasant,  condescending  tone 
which  a  woman  who  does  not  understand  children 
uses  to  a  strange  child.     *  I  thought  the  river  was 
lovely.    It  was  singular  that  my  launch  should  have 
stopped  so  near,  and  that  I  should  have  come  to  the 
Angler's  Inn  without  knowing  that  you  were  there  ! 
I  was  surprised  to  find  you  such  a  big  girl.     I  don't 
think  I  had  realized  that  you  were  grown  up.     Let 
me  see  how  old  are  you  now  ?' 

Rosabel  turned  a  gaze  both  sullen  and  fierce  on 
her  mother. 
'  Nineteen.' 


ROSABEL  61 

'  Of  course !  But  you  do  not  look  as  much,'  said 
Mrs.  Fairbourne. 

The  girl's  thick  lashes  drooped  again.  She  began 
to  plait  her  dress,  presenting  no  more  of  her  face 
to  her  mother  than  the  curve  of  a  full  peach-like 
cheek. 

*  Impossible?  murmured  Mrs.  Fairbourne  with  a 
shrug,  under  the  cover  of  the  opening  door.  *  Here 
is  the  tea,'  she  said  aloud.  *  I  am  sure  you  must 
want  some  after  your  journey.' 

Rosabel's  expression  just  now  had  positively 
startled  her.  And  she  had  given  birth  to  this 
young  savage  !  It  was  inconceivable. 

She  poured  out  the  tea. 

'  Do  you  take  sugar  and  cream,  Rosabel  ?  Help 
yourself  to  cakes.  To-morrow  I  must  see  about 
getting  you  some  decent  clothes.  Do  you  like 
pretty  things  ?' 

'  Yes,'  said  Rosabel. 

Her  hand  shook  at  that  moment,  so  that  she  was 
afraid  of  spilling  her  tea,  and  her  face  flooded  with 
colour  once  more.  The  simple  question  touched 
her  thoughts  curiously.  She  liked  pretty  things  so 
much  that  she  would  even  have  liked  this  pretty 
thing  who  was  her  mother,  and  forgiven  everything, 
if  Mrs.  Fairbourne  had  only  opened  her  arms  and 
asked  for  her  love.  The  woman's  elegance  and 
daintiness,  the  very  perfume  of  violets  which  her 
movements  wafted  abroad,  captivated  the  imagina- 


62  ROSABEL 

tion  of  the  girl.    Despite  herself,  she  was  attracted. 
But  no  appeal  of  the  right  kind  was  made. 

Rosabel  averted  her  gaze.  She  would  not  look  ; 
she  would  not  allow  herself  to  soften.  A  moment 
had  passed  which  would  never  return. 

'  Have  you  anything  in  the  way  of  a  dinner  dress  ?' 
asked  Mrs.  Fairbourne. 

'  I  have  a  white  silk  blouse.' 
'  It  must  do  for  to-night.     I  will  get  you  a  couple 
of  ready-made  gowns  to  go  on  with.     I  can't  see 
you  walking  about  like  that.     What  do  you  usually 
do  with  your  spare  time,  Rosabel  ?' 
*  I  like  reading.' 

'  That  is  very  fortunate.  Perhaps  you  could  find 
something  to  amuse  you  on  that  table  over  there 
while  I  write  some  letters  ?' 

Amy  Fairbourne  detested  writing  letters,  but 
anything  was  better  than  trying  to  make  conversa- 
tion for  her  daughter.  She  settled  herself  at  her 
escritoire  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  Rosabel  made  a 
selection  from  the  latest  volumes  from  the  '  Gros- 
v£nor,'  and  sat  down  as  far  from  her  mother  as 
possible. 

But  the  girl  could  not  read.  Outwardly  stolid, 
she  was  feverish  within.  While  Mrs.  Fairbourne 
scribbled  off  her  notes,  she  sat  staring  vacantly  at 
the  pages  of  *  Lord  Jim,'  turning  over  a  leaf  now 
and  then  to  keep  up  the  pretence  of  occupation. 
At  intervals  her  eyes  went  on  a  furtive  voyage 


ROSABEL  63 

round  the  room.  She  thought  it  was  beautiful, 
and  she  was  right.  Mrs.  Fairbourne  had  exquisite 
taste  ;  she  collected  old  china  ;  an  eminent  artist 
had  helped  her  to  choose  the  water-colours  on  the 
walls  ;  and  Aylmer  had  sent  her  the  basket  of 
flowers  which  occupied  a  Chippendale  table  and 
perfumed  the  entire  room. 

'  And  this,'  thought  Rosabel,  '  is  my  mother's 
house,  and  this  is  my  mother.' 

She  had  to  say  it  to  herself  a  great  many  times  ; 
it  seemed  so  impossible.  She  felt  more  of  an  alien 
at  this  moment  than  she  had  ever  felt  at  the  Angler's 
Inn.  Perhaps  the  strangeness  would  wear  off. 
At  present  she  did  not  believe  that  she  could  grow 
used  to  it.  She  was  afraid  to  move. 

When  Mrs.  Fairbourne  had  used  up  all  her  arrears 
of  correspondence,  she  rose  from  the  table,  smiled 
at  Rosabel,  and  chose  a  book  herself.  In  her  set 
it  was  necessary  to  keep  up  with  the  literary  output 
of  the  day,  and  to  do  so  she  had  to  utilize  every 
spare  moment. 

There  was  no  interruption  till  seven. 

*  Now  I  am  going  to  dress,'  she  said.  '  You  need 
not  go  up  for  another  half-hour  unless  you  choose. 
Dinner  is  at  eight.' 

She  left  Rosabel  alone. 

The  girl  rose  then.  She  had  a  sensation  of  being 
a  mere  visitor.  She  did  not  belong  here.  She  was 
tolerated  merely  because  she  represented  two 


64  ROSABEL 

thousand  a  year.  Only  that  the  amount  of  the  bribe 
differed  with  the  social  position  of  the  bribed,  she 
stood  exactly  in  the  same  relationship  to  her  mother, 
she  perceived,  as  she  had  stood  to  her  aunt.  Why, 
if  nobody  wanted  her  for  herself,  had  she  ever  been 
born  ? 

She  pressed  her  face  against  the  window,  and 
gazed  with  sombre  eyes,  to  which  tears  were  welling, 
at  the  blank  faces  of  the  mansions  over  the  way. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MRS.  FAIRBOURNE  was  alone  in  the  drawing-room 
when  Alec  Aylmer  was  shown  in. 

'  Thank  goodness,  you  haven't  disappointed  me  !' 
she  cried  dramatically. 

'  It's  very  kind  of  you.' 

'  Not  at  all.  I  should  welcome  anyone  to-night. 
I  was  afraid  that  you  would  meet  with  an  accident, 
or  that  your  mother  would  send  for  you  to  Shrop- 
shire, or  that  there  would  be  a  black  fog  in  June  to 
keep  you  away.  And  then  I  should  have  had  to 
dine  all  alone  with  Rosabel !' 

*  Ah,  Rosabel !'  he  said.     '  Then  she  has  arrived  ? 
How  do  you  find  her  ?' 

*  A  perfect  little  clodhopper,  as  you  might  sup- 
pose.    Not  a  morsel  of  conversation,   answers  in 
monosyllables  when  spoken  to,  and  shuts  up  at  a 
touch  like  a  limpet  on  a  rock.' 

*  Perhaps  you  frighten  her,'  he  suggested. 

'  If  I  do,  I  can't  help  it.  I  am  sure  I  received  her 
most  amiably,  and  I  have  promised  to  take  her  out 
shopping  to-morrow — in  self-defence,  as  a  matter  of 

65  5 


66  ROSABEL 

fact.  Where  do  you  think  this  sort  of  people  get  their 
clothes  ?  Is  the  finished  article  imported  by  the 
village  shop,  or  do  they  buy  remnants  at  a  sale 
in  the  Edgware  Road,  and  "make  them  up"  at 
home  ?' 

'  I  wonder,'  said  Aylmer,  with  an  air  of  profundity. 
'  Do  you  think  Gough  would  know  ?' 

'  He  would  never  admit  that  he  didn't.  He 
would  put  us  off  the  scent  by  describing  the  exact 
fashion  of  skins  in  vogue  in  the  Stone  Age,  and  bring 
us  down,  via  Roman  togas,  to  the  ceremonial  cos- 
tume of  the  Patagonian  of  to-day.  By  that  time 
everyone  would  be  tired  j  and  the  subject  would  be 
changed,  and  Cough's  reputation  for  knowing 
everything  saved.  Oh,  how  is  it  that  I  can  laugh  ? 
My  temper  must  be  that  of  an  angel.  Just  think 
how  she  will  cut  up  a  dinner-table — my  dinner- 
table,  which  has  always  been  above  reproach.' 

'  Can't  she  dine  in  the  nursery  when  you  have 
guests  ?' 

'  Now  you  are  trying  to  be  funny,'  said  Mrs.  Fair- 
bourne  severely. 

'  Send  her  to  school.' 

'  At  nineteen  years  of  age  ?  Besides,  there's  the 
old  cat's  will.  I  must  have  her  with  me.' 

'  Well,  marry  her.' 

'  That  isn't  a  bad  idea,  but  it  isn't  so  easy.  Good 
God  !  that  ever  I  should  come  to  be  a  woman  with 
a  daughter  to  marry  !' 


ROSABEL  67 

'  She's  not  a  bad-looking  girl,'  he  said,  leaning 
lazily  against  the  mantelshelf,  '  and  there  are  plenty 
of  boys  about.' 

'  Yes,  but  we're  in  the  wrong  set  for  that  sort  of 
thing — the  most  difficult  of  all.  The  young  fellows 
we  know  are  just  beginning  professions,  and  are  on 
the  look-out  for  money  ;  and  the  older  men,  whose 
positions  are  made,  are  already  married,  or  else 
they  want  a  brilliant  woman  who  can  entertain  a 
dinner-table.' 

'  I  dare  say  you  are  right.  But  she  will  have 
money.' 

'  When  I  die,'  retorted  Mrs.  Fairbourne.  '  Thank 
you,  but  I  am  not  going  to  die  before  my  time 
in  order  to  give  Rosabel  a  dower  !' 

'  She  may  be  somebody's  taste,  nevertheless.' 

'  You  are  too  sanguine,'  she  moaned.  '  It's 
no  good  a  girl  having  decent  features  nowadays 
if  she  isn't  bright.  Only  absolute  beauty  could 
overcome  the  disadvantages  of  her  lack  of 
manner.' 

*  Lord  Pentormel  married  Dolly  Vere  of  the 
Empire  ballet  the  other  day.' 

'  Oh,  she  had  bad  manners,  which  are  better  than 
none  !  Besides,  he  was  a  lord.  I  am  talking  about 
mere  men — men  of  intellect,  the  salt  of  the  earth. 
Fancy  any  of  us  with  Rosabel !  It  will  gain  me  a 
mortal  enemy  every  time  I  choose  her  a  partner  for 
dinner  !' 

5—2 


68  ROSABEL 

The  door  opened  at  that  moment,  and  Rosabel 
entered. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  and  Aylmer  left  off  talking,  and 
gazed  at  her. 

The  girl  had  put  on  the  white  silk  blouse  with  her 
Sunday  skirt.  Once  it  had  pleased  her,  but  she 
had  been  told  that  her  clothes  were  frightful,  and 
could  well  believe  it.  That  alone  would  have  made 
her  self-conscious  and  clumsy  without  the  unex- 
pected appearance  of  Aylmer,  and  the  silence  and 
half-suppressed  amusement  which  greeted  her  en- 
trance convincing  her  that  she  had  been  the  subject 
of  conversation. 
,  She  grew  red  and  sullen. 

'  Come  and  be  introduced  to  Mr.  Aylmer,'  said 
her  mother.  *  I  think  you  have  seen  him  before, 
Rosabel  ?' 

Aylmer  extended  his  hand,  smiling. 
'  Yes,  we  have  certainly  met  before,  Miss  Car- 
penter!' 

'  For  goodness'  sake,  don't  call  her  Miss  Carpenter !' 
'  I  wouldn't  dare  to  take  the  liberty  of  calling  her 
Rosabel.' 

'  I  give  you  leave,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne.  *  I 
think  I  shall  drop  the  Carpenter  altogether,  and 
call  her  Fairbourne.  Different  names  would  only 
lead  to  confusion.' 

Rosabel's  hand,  absolutely  unresponsive t  dropped 
from  the  man's. 


ROSABEL  69 

'  What  will  Miss  Rosabel  have  to  say  to  that  ?' 

*  Nothing,  of  course  !'  replied  Mrs.  Fairbourne  a 
trifle  sharply.  *  Such  matters  are  for  me  to  decide.' 

He  found  Amy  Fairbourne, in  the  role  of  'mamma,' 
decidedly  entertaining.  She  meant  to  have  the 
upper  hand,  that  was  evident,  and  she  would  get 
it.  The  masterly  manner  in  which  she  always 
obtained  her  own  way  in  social  matters,  secured  the 
celebrities  she  wanted  for  her  dinners  and  At  Homes, 
defeated  presumptuous  rivals,  and  monopolized  the 
attention  of  the  best  men  in  the  room,  had  filled 
him  with  amused  admiration  many  times.  Now  he 
was  to  have  the  pleasure  of  watching  her  skate, 
with  her  usual  grace,  across  the  thinnest  of  ice, 
dragging  this  undesirable  daughter  behind  her,  and 
escaping — as  he  was  sure  she  would  escape — the 
dousing  she  deserved. 

Dinner  was  announced,  and  Aylmer  offered  his 
arm  to  his  hostess.  Rosabel  followed  them  down- 
stairs. It  made  the  girl  feel  more  than  ever  an  out- 
sider that  her  mother  should  have  a  guest  to  dinner 
on  her  first  day.  She  was  to  be  criticised  by  two 
pairs  of  eyes>  it  seemed,  instead  of  one.  Her  mis- 
takes were  to  be  witnessed  by  this  man  who  was 
nothing  to  do  with  her.  Already  she  disliked  him, 
and  his  ill-timed  presence  gave  her  fresh  food  for 
resentment  against  her  mother,  who  showed  such 
lack  of  consideration  for  her  natural  strangeness  in 
these  new  surroundings. 


7o  ROSABEL 

The  dinner  itself  did  not  minimize  her  discomfort. 
It  began  with  hors  d'ceuvres,  which  she  had  never 
seen  before,  and  she  hesitated  and  reddened  over 
caviare,  prawns,  and  olives,  and  eventually  declined 
all.  The  multitude  of  knives  and  forks  on  the 
table  confused  her,  also  the  fact  that  certain  dishes 
were  handed  round,  and  that  she  was  expected  to 
help  herself  instead  of  being  served,  as  she  had  been 
accustomed  to.  Things  were  disguised,  too,  by 
strange  sauces,  and  she  did  not  know  whether  they 
were  fish  or  flesh  until  she  discovered,  in  an  agony 
of  humiliation,  that  she  had  taken  the  wrong  knife 
and  fork. 

Scarcely  a  remark  was  addressed  to  her  through 
three  courses.  Mrs.  Fairbourne  led  the  conversa- 
tion, and  Aylmer  made  no  attempt  to  break  loose 
and  draw  out  Rosabel,  being  as  indifferent  as  most 
men  of  the  world  to  the  undeveloped  ingenue.  So 
they  talked  over  the  girl's  head,  as  though  they 
were  alone  or  she  were  a  child,  of  people  she  did  not 
know,  places  she  had  never  seen,  and  things  she  did 
not  understand.  And  realizing  that  she  was  being 
ignored,  Rosabel  grew  more  and  more  sullen. 

Her  secret  sensitiveness,  which  nobody  had 
troubled  to  discern,  received  a  final  shock  when,  in 
attempting  to  cut  the  ice-cream  pyramid  presented 
to  her,  she  shot  a  large  piece  on  to  the  floor.  It  was 
an  accident  which  might  have  happened  to  anybody, 
and  a  woman  would  have  laughed  and  turned  it  into 


ROSABEL  71 

a  joke.  But  to  Rosabel  the  accident  completed  the 
revelation  of  her  awkwardness  and  ignorance,  and 
she  seemed  to  hear  her  mother's  voice  as  the  blood 
rushed  to  her  head  : 

'  What  is  your  name  ?  You  remind  me  of  a 
servant  I  had  once.' 

Yes,  she  was  hopelessly  common,  ill-mannered, 
ill-bred.  Everybody  must  see  it.  No  doubt  the 
dignified  butler  was  smiling  in  his  sleeve. 

Aylmer  was  smiling,  at  any  rate,  although  he 
meant  no  more  than  good-natured  reassurance. 

'  Never  mind,  Rosabel,'  said  her  mother.  '  It 
doesn't  matter.' 

Benson  brought  a  large  spoon  and  a  plate,  and 
scooped  up  the  mess,  and  Rosabel's  cheeks  did  not 
cool  until  the  coffee  and  liqueurs  diverted  her  atten- 
tion from  herself. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  took  a  cigarette  out  of  a  silver 
box,  which  she  passed  to  Aylmer,  who  also  helped 
himself.  He  struck  a  light,  and  offered  it  to  his 
hostess  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Rosabel  stared.     She  had  never  seen  such  a  thing. 

'  Do  you  smoke,  Miss  Rosabel  ?'  he  asked. 

'  No,'  said  Rosabel  brusquely ;  '  I  shouldn't  have 
been  allowed  to.' 

Mrs.  Fairbourne's  thin,  well-shaped  lips  curled. 
She  exchanged  glances  with  Aylmer,  and  they  both 
looked  at  Rosabel  as  though  she  were  a  specimen  of 
an  unknown  breed. 


72  ROSABEL 

1  Why  ?     Isn't   it   the   fashion    at    the    Angler's 

Inn?' 

A  slow  fire  burned  in  the  girl's  eyes.  She  grew 
fierce  and  rude  under  the  hated  goad  of  ridicule  ; 
she  was  like  a  wild  animal  newly  trapped,  and  baited 
by  the  oppressors. 

'  I  thought  it  was  only  drunken  old  Irish  women 
who  smoked !'  she  said.  '  I  never  saw  a  lady 
do  it !' 

'  You  have  still  a  great  deal  to  see — and  to  learn,' 
returned  her  mother  quietly.  '  Won't  you  try  the 
Creme  de  Menthe,  Mr.  Aylmer  ?' 

Rosabel  longed  to  get  up  and  rush  from  the  room. 
She  had  disgraced  herself  thoroughly  this  time,  and 
the  ease  with  which  her  mother  passed  to  another 
subject,  and  the  man  helped  to  cover  the  awkward 
moment,  pointed  still  more  plainly  to  her  own  in- 
feriority. Nevertheless,  she  had  the  consciousness 
of  indirect  provocation  to  support  her.  It  was  only 
an  infinitesimal  part  of  the  great  wrong  which  had 
been  done  to  her  from  birth — a  sprig  of  the  tree 
which  had  been  growing  with  her  growth. 

When  they  went  back  to  the  drawing-room,  she 
made  no  pretence  of  joining  in  the  conversation,  or 
even  associating  with  her  mother  and  her  mother's 
guest.  She  sat  apart,  away  from  the  carefully- 
shaded  electric  lights,  glancing  now  and  then  at  the 
pair  who  talked  so  lightly  and  so  well. 

She  picked  up  an  illustrated  journal  by-and-by, 


ROSABEL  73 

and  made  a  pretence  of  looking  at  the  pictures.  It 
was  a  relief  when  the  clock  struck  ten,  and  her 
mother  spoke  over  her  shoulder  to  the  girl. 

'  I  dare  say  you  are  tiredj  Rosabel  ?  You  may 
go  to  bed  if  you  like.' 

Rosabel  got  up  slowly.  She  was  wondering,  in  a 
flood  of  uneasiness,  how  she  was  expected  to  say 
good-night  to  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  solved  the  difficulty,  which  had 
not  existed  for  her  part. 

She  nodded  to  her  daughter,  who  had  shaken 
hands  with  Aylmer  and  stood  awkwardly  waiting. 

'  If  you  want  anything,  you  can  ring  for  Brace. 
Tell  her  at  what  hour  you  wish  to  be  called  in  the 
morning.  I  never  come  down  to  breakfast.  You 
can  have  yours  when  you  please.  Good-night,  my 
dear.' 

She  added  something  under  her  breath  in  French 
to  Aylmer  before  the  door  closed,  and  Rosabel 
heard  them  laughing. 

The  girl  went  up  to  bed  with  tingling  cheeks  and 
trembling  lips,  her  eyes  half  blind. 

'  I  hate  her  !'  she  cried  passionately.  '  I  hate 
her!' 

It  was  true,  but  hatred  was  not  the  only  emotion 
which  tore  at  her  heart.  Mingled  with  it  was  a 
grudging  admiration  of  her  mother,  a  fierce  jealousy 
of  those  attributes  which  lack  of  education  had 
placed  beyond  her  reach.  No  graceful  move- 


74  ROSABEL 

ment  or  gesture  of  Mrs.  Fairbourne's,  none  of  the 
evidence^  so  continuously  given,  of  mental  cul- 
ture,- ready  wit^  and  knowledge  of  the  worldj  had 
escaped  the  notice  of  the  girl  who  seemed  to  notice 
nothing.  And  as  she  undressed  slowly,  she  went 
over  the  incidents  of  the  evening  again  and  again,- 
remembering,  with  strange  distinctness,  almost 
everything  her  mother  had  said,  and  how  she  had 
looked  when  she  said  it;  and  the  tones  of  her 
voice ;  and  in  contrast  she  drew  a  picture  of 
herself,  with  a  fantastic  self-depreciation  which 
was  almost  loathing — herself,  awkward,  silent f 
and  sullen  with  conscious  ignorance  and  injured 
pride — a  lump  of  coal  beside  a  diamond,  a  monster 
beside  a  fairy  queen. 

She  looked  at  her  hands,  which  were  always  red, 
and  the  first  finger  roughened  by  much  coarse 
needlework  in  the  way  of  household  mending  ;  at 
her  waist  thickened  by  the  wearing  of  cheap  corsets  ; 
at  the  colour  in  her  cheeks.  She  admired  a  tapering 
figure  and  long  white  fingers,  and  a  colourless  face, 
and  carmine  lips — everything,  in  fact,  which  seemed 
to  her  the  archetype  of  refinement,  and  was  her 
mother's,  and  not  hers.  Even  her  coarse  under- 
clothes reproached  her  to-night.  She  could  not 
pray.  Whatever  her  faults  might  be,  she  was  not  a 
hypocrite,  and  would  not  return  thanks  when  she 
could  find  nothing  to  be  thankful  for. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ROSABEL  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  herself  after 
breakfast  in  the  morning.  She  was  not  used  to 
having  her  time  at  her  own  disposal.  The  house 
was  as  silent  at  nine  o'clock  as  though  it  were  still 
the  middle  of  the  night,  and  there  were  only  a  few 
tradesmen's  carts,  and  a  footman  taking  a  poodle 
for  an  airing,  to  be  seen  out  of  doors. 

Having  examined  the  contents  of  the  dining- 
room,  she  went  to  the  drawing-room  to  find  a 
book.  There  seemed  to  be  only  two  reception- 
rooms  in  the  tiny  but  perfect  house,  and  it  surprised 
her  that  a  rich  woman  like  her  mother  should  care 
to  live  in  such  a  small  place.  She  supposed  it  was 
very  expensive,  however,  as  it  was  so  near  Hyde 
Park. 

She  had  grown  tired  of  reading,  and  was  wonder- 
ing if  she  might  go  out,  when  her  mother 
entered. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  was  all  in  black  to-day.  Her 
mourning  had  arrived,  and  her  fair  hair  and  white 
skin  were  thrown  up  by  the  contrast.  She  looked 

75 


76  ROSABEL 

exceedingly  well,  in  fact,  and  being  aware  of  it  made 
her  amiably  disposed  towards  her  daughter. 

*  Good-morning,  Rosabel.     How  did  you  sleep  ? 
I  got  up  early  on  purpose  to  do  our  shopping,'  she 
continued,   without  waiting   for   an   answer.     '  As 
your  great-aunt  mentioned  you  in  her  will,  you  must 
wear  black  for  a  little  while.     I  shall  only  remain  in 
full  mourning  three  months,  and  even  less  will  do 
for  you.     It  seems  a  great  expense  for  a  few  weeks. 
You  have  had  your  breakfast  ?' 

*  Yes,  thank  you.' 

'  At  the  end  of  July  we  shall  be  going  to  the 
country.  You  must  have  plenty  of  muslin  and 
cotton  frocks — nothing  is  prettier  for  a  girl.'  Mrs. 
Fairbourne  had  been  pondering,  evidently,  over 
Aylmer's  suggestion  to  get  Rosabel  married.  '  I 
want  you  to  look  your  best,'  she  added.  *  Clothes 
and  carriage — carriage  is  very  important,  Rosabel 
— make  such  a  difference.  What  size  shoes  do  you 
wear  ?' 

'  Fours.' 

'  Not  a  very  small  foot,'  mused  her  mother,  '  but 
then  you  are  a  big  girl.  I  must  have  your  hands 
manicured.  I  was  noticing  them  last  night.  Red 
hands  and  ill-kept  nails  are  abominable.' 

Rosabel  coloured. 

'  I  kept  them  as  well  as  I  could,'  she  said.  '  I  had 
work  to  do.' 

*  Yes,  I  know.      We  won't   talk  about   that.     I 


ROSABEL  77 

am  not  reproaching  you.  By  the  way '  Mrs. 
Fairbourne  paused  a  moment,  and  then  continued 
deliberately — '  there  is  something  I  wish  to  say 
to  you,  Rosabel.  I  may  have  callers  this  after- 
noon. Certainly  you  will  be  meeting  my  friends 
soon.  It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should  mention 
your  antecedents  to  everyone.' 

The  girl  raised  her  eyes  questioningly. 

'  I  mean  that  you  need  not  tell  people  where  you 
have  been  living,  and  with  whom.  It  will  be  suffi- 
cient to  say,  if  you  are  asked,  that  you  have  been 
living  with  your  father's  people.  You  understand  ?' 

'  I'm  not  going  to  tell  lies  about  it,'  said  Rosabel. 

'  I  didn't  ask  you  to  tell  lies  about  it,'  replied  her 
mother  sharply.  '  Only  to  say  nothing  at  all.  You 
ought  not  to  find  that  very  difficult !' 

The  swift  retort  struck  home.  Rosabel's  lids 
drooped,  and  the  sulky  mouth  closed. 

There  was  silence. 

'  I  am  going  to  put  on  my  things,'  added  Mrs. 
Fairbourne.  '  You  had  better  do  the  same.' 

Her  voice  was  smooth  once  more,  but  on  her  way 
upstairs  she  frowned,  and  for  an  instant  there  was 
a  likeness,  rarely  discernible,  between  her  and 
Rosabel. 

'  I  hope  this  girl  is  not  going  to  spoil  my  temper,' 
she  thought.  '  There  is  nothing  so  ageing  as  ill- 
temper,  and  I  really  can't  afford,  at  my  time  of 
life ' 


78  ROSABEL 

She  looked  in  the  glass  anxiously  when  she 
reached  her  room,  and  passed  a  soothing  finger  over 
the  skin  at  the  corners  of  the  eyes  where  crow's-feet 
come,  and  wiped  away  the  furrow  she  had  just  made 
between  her  brows. 

'  Rosabel  scowls  like  a  little  devil.  When  she  is 
my  age,  she  will  be  a  mass  of  lines  and  wrinkles. 
The  lower  classes  never  know  how  to  educate  their 
faces.  She  is  very  like  her  father — only  not  so 
good-looking.  What  a  pity  she  isn't  a  beauty — 
a  real,  striking  beauty,  who  might  have  made  a  sen- 
sation !  I  should  find  it  much  easier  to  get  on  with 
her.' 

She  deceived  herself.  If  Rosabel  had  been 
brilliant  enough  to  cast  her  into  the  shade,  her 
indifference  to  the  girl  would  have  become  dislike. 
Rosabel  had  the  youth,  but  she  did  not  know  how 
to  make  the  most  of  it.  Although  the  woman 
would  not  admit  it  to  herself,  the  foil  this  shy, 
awkward,  heavy,  and  apparently  stupid  girl  made 
to  her  own  brightness  and  polish,  filled  her  with  a 
soothing  sense  of  superiority,  and  took  away  some 
of  the  annoyance  of  having  her  daughter  forced 
upon  her.  After  all,  the  world  was  a  pleasant  place. 
Her  pecuniary  position  was  now  comfortable,  and 
she  had  had  a  note  from  Alec  Aylmer  by  the  morn- 
ing's post  enclosing  tickets  for  a  concert  which  even 
mourning  for  an  aunt  did  not  prohibit,  and  asking 
her  and  Rosabel  to  lunch  at  the  Carlton. 


ROSABEL  79 

'  It's  so  fortunate  that  he  takes  Rosabel  pro- 
perly,' she  mused.  '  Some  men  would  hate  the 
idea  of  a  grown  girl,  especially  a  girl  who  is  not 
quite  the  thing.  Really,  he  is  behaving  very  well, 
bless  him  !' 

She  no  longer  thought  of  crow's-feet,  and  other 
horrible  things  of  the  kind.  After  trying  on  two 
new  hats,  she  decided  that  the  one  with  the 
ostrich  feathers  was  the  more  becoming,  and 
descended  the  stairs  humming.  Even  the  sight  of 
Rosabel  in  a  frightful  straw  with  a  blue  bow  in  it 
— like  a  nursemaid's — and  a  skirt  which  dipped 
at  the  back,  could  not  spoil  her  restored  good- 
humour. 

The  victoria  waited.  Lacquer,  harness,  and 
horses'  coats  glistened  in  the  sun. 

Rosabel  entered  a  carriage  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life.  Her  temperament  was  an  unhappy  one.  Per- 
haps the  cravings  with  which  she  was  endowed,  God 
knows  why,  would  never  be  satisfied.  Even  this 
splendour  did  not  make  her  happy.  She  experi- 
enced a  throb  of  pride,  it  is  true,  but  it  was  gloomy 
pride.  The  outward  magnificence  only  made  her 
more  conscious  of  the  inward  poverty.  Although 
she  sat  beside  her  mother,  whose  garments  brushed 
her,  they  were  as  far  apart  as  the  poles,  and  loneli- 
ness to  the  young  is  misery.  There  was  nothing  in 
common  between  them.  A  thought-reader  could 
not  have  known  better  than  Rosabel  that  while  she 


80  ROSABEL 

was  brooding  over  her  own  relationship  to  her 
mother,  her  mother  was  thinking  of  a  thousand 
things  in  which  she  had  no  part. 

She  would  rather  have  been  outside  an  omnibus 
with  some  shabby  woman  of  tender  heart  who  loved 
her. 


CHAPTER  X 

ON  reflection$  Mrs.  Fairbourne  suggested  that 
Rosabel  should  remain  upstairs  during  calling  hours 
until  she  was  '  fit  to  be  seen.'  The  girl  was  willing 
enough.  A  dull  sort  of  curiosity  was  her  attitude 
towards  this  new  world  and  its  inhabitants.  Under 
happier  circumstances,  she  would  have  been  eager 
to  meet  the  people,  on  equal  termsy  whom  she  had 
only  seen  in  the  distance  hitherto ;  as  she  was 
situated,  she  was  far  too  injured  and  forlorn  to 
desire  to  make  acquaintance  with  any  of  her  mother's 
friends.  If  all  the  women  were  like  Mrs.  Fairbourne, 
as  smart  and  unfriendly,  and  all  the  men  like  Mr. 
Aylmer,  they  would  scorn  her,  and  she  would  hate 
them. 

As  it  happened,  nobody  came  that  afternoon,  and 
her  new  clothes  were  delivered  in  the  morning. 

It  seemed  to  Rosabel  a  ridiculous  pretence  to 
wear  black  for  a  woman  she  had  never  seen.  She 
was  glad  that  .she  was  going  to  be  rich  some  day* 
because  it  would  enable  her  to  be  free,  and  to  choose 
her  own  friends ;  but  she  could  not  feel  any  senti- 

81  6 


82  ROSABEL 

ment  for  the  memory  of  Miss  Dudgeon,  who  had 
shown  as  little  consideration,  during  her  lifetime, 
for  her  great-niece's  welfare  as  Mrs.  Fairbourne 
herself. 

A  remark  on  the  subject,  inspired  by  the  sight  of 
the  new  dresses,  was  the  first  voluntary  one  that 
Rosabel  had  uttered  since  her  arrival  at  Great 
Cumberland  Place. 

'  Why,'  she  asked  suddenly,  '  do  you  think  Aunt 
Eliza  left  me  her  money  ?' 

'Oh,  to  annoy  me,  of  course  !'  replied  Mrs.  Fair- 
bourne  thoughtlessly.  '  She  couldn't  take  it  with 
her,  and  she  was  bound  by  nature  to  keep  it  in  the 
family,  so  she  made  herself  as  disagreeable  about  it 
as  she  could.' 

'  '  Then  she  didn't  like  you  ?'  said  Rosabel.  '  I 
see.' 

'  Not  that  I  mind  your  having  it  after  me,'  added 
Mrs.  Fairbourne.  '  It  was  the  tying  it  up  and 
treating  me  like  a  child  which  annoyed  me.  Pro- 
bably I  should  have  left  the  property  to  you  in  any 
case.' 

'  Would  you  ?'  asked  Rosabel. 

She  looked  so  surprised  that  Mrs.  Fairbourne 
actually  coloured.  Then  she  bit  her  lip,  and  grew 
angry.  It  was  absurd  that  this  brat  should  have 
the  power  to  sting  her. 

Well-cut  clothes  made  an  astonishing  difference 
in  Rosabel.  Her  figure  was  wonderfully  improved  j 


ROSABEL  83 

and  the  consciousness  that  she  was  no  longer  ridi- 
culous caused  her  to  hold  herself  better,  and  to 
lose  the  clumsiness  which  had  marred  her  before. 
But  she  lacked  distinction  still — she  was  only  a 
good-looking  girl ;  and  Mrs.  Fairbourne,  who  had 
regarded  her  with  brief  anxiety,  smiled  approval. 
Their  styles  were  so  different  that  they  could  never 
clash. 

'  That  is  much  better,  Rosabel.  But  you  don't 
know  how  to  do  your  hair.  My  maid  must  show 
you.' 

It  was  her  At  Home  day,  and  at  a  quarter  to  five 
the  callers  began  to  arrive. 

Amy  Fairbourne  was  always  at  her  best  when  she 
had  to  carry  off  an  awkward  situation.  Difficulties 
called  forth  all  her  courage  and  tact,  and,  apparently 
serene,  she  took  the  hedge  before  her  with  a  flying 
leap. 

'  Let  me  introduce  to  you  my  daughter  Rosabel,' 
she  said. 

'  Your — your  what  ?'  gasped  the  lady  addressed. 

'  My  daughter,'  repeated  Mrs.  Fairbourne  sweetly. 
'  Didn't  you  know  I  had  a  daughter  ?' 

'  N — no,'  said  the  other  woman,  putting  up  a 
pince-nez,  and  extending  her  disengaged  hand  to 
Rosabel.  '  She  is  quite  a  big  girl,  too  !  How  do 
you  do,  my  dear  ?  I  suppose  you  have  been  at 
school  abroad  ?' 

'  No,'  said  Rosabel  shortly. 

6—2 


84  ROSABEL 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  intervened  with  her  light,  un- 
embarrassed laugh. 

'  Her  father's  people  have  had  her,'  she  said.  *  It 
was  an  old  arrangement.  I  promised  poor  George, 
you  know,  before  I  married  him.  He  was  so  jealous. 
But  now,  of  course,  that  her  education  is  finished, 
and  there  is  no  longer  any  reason  why  she  shouldn't 
be  with  me ' 

'  I  hadn't  the  least  idea,'  murmured  the  friend. 
*  How  queer  of  you,  Amy  !' 

'  Why  ?  Because  I  didn't  bore  you  about  her  ? 
Who  cares  for  other  people's  children  !  Do  you 
think  she  is  like  me  ?' 

She  put  an  arm,  as  she  spoke,  round  her  daughter's 
waist.  Rosabel  did  not  make  the  slightest  response ; 
only  her  eyes  plainly  expressed  her  contempt  of 
this  little  comedy  on  her  mother's  part. 

'  I  don't  think  she  is  at  all  like  you,'  replied  the 
friend.  She  laughed.  '  But  I'll  take  your  word 
for  her !  Good-looking,'  she  added  in  an  aside  to 
Mrs.  Fairbourne. 

'  You  think  so  ?     I  am  glad  !' 

'  And  I  suppose  you  are  very  pleased  to  be  with 
your  mother,  my  dear  ?' 

Rosabel's  lips  opened  and  shut.  She  looked 
at  the  carpet,  and  murmured  an  inarticulate 
response. 

Had  the  diplomatic  Mrs.  Fairbourne  felt  uncom- 
fortable for  a  moment,  and  was  she  relieved  ? 


ROSABEL  85 

*  Of  course  she  will  prefer  London  to  the  country 
— girls  always  do.  And  it  will  be  good  for  her. 
She  has  lived  too  quietly.  Rosabel,  take  Mrs. 
Ivor's  cup.' 

The  way  she  dismissed  the  girl  was  rather  clever, 
and  Rosabel,  equally  glad  to  be  dismissed,  stole 
out  of  the  room. 

Nevertheless,  the  astonishing  fact  passed  from 
one  batch  of  callers  to  another  throughout  the 
afternoon.  Mrs.  Fairbourne's  replies  were  always 
easy,  and  adroitly  vague.  But  after  everyone 
had  gone  she  remained  thoughtful,  and  not  in  the 
best  of  tempers. 

It  had  struck  her  for  the  first  time  that  Rosabel 
was  not  only  heavy  and  sullen,  but  antagonistic. 
She  stiffened  under  the  caresses  bestowed  upon 
her  as  though  displeased  ;  it  had  been  noticeable, 
in  fact.  What  would  people  think  ?  And  it  was 
advisable  that  they  should  think  about  her  as  little 
as  possible. 

When  mother  and  daughter  met  again,  in  the  ten 
minutes  before  dinner,  Mrs.  Fairbourne  had  a 
question  cut  and  dried. 

'  Rosabel,'  she  said,  *  why  do  you  never  call  me 
mother  ?' 

Rosabel  cast  down  her  long  lashesz  and  remained 
silent. 

'  I  am  speaking  to  you  !' 

'  I  didn't  know  you  wished  it,'  said  Rosabel. 


86  ROSABEL 

*  Naturally,  I  do  not  wish  you  to  be  peculiar.     I 
should  have  thought  so  simple  a  matter  required 
no   instructions    on    my    part.     There    is    another 
matter.    Why  didn't  you  answer  Mrs.  Ivor  properly  ? 
Of  course,  everything  is  strange  to  you,  and  you 
feel  out  of  place  ;  I  can  understand  that.     But  you 
must  try  not  to  behave  like  a  savage.' 

*  I    suppose    I    am   a    savage,'    replied    Rosabel 
gloomily. 

*  I  hope  you  are  not  ill-tempered  as  well !' 
'  I  shouldn't  wonder.' 

To  her  surprise  her  mother  began  to  laugh. 
The  girl's  morose  voice  and  candid  admissions 
were  funny. 

'  Well,'  added  Mrs.  Fairbourne  with  restored 
amiability,  *  you  must  do  your  best.  You'll  get 
used  to  everything  presently.  I  don't  want  people 
to  dislike  you.  To-morrow,  for  instance,  Mr. 
Aylmer  has  invited  us  to  lunch  with  him  at  a 
restaurant,  so  I  hope  that  you  will  be  very  nice.' 

*  He  has  invited  me  ?' 
'  Yes  ;  both  of  us.' 

'  Must  I  go  ?' 

*  Don't  you  want  to  ?' 

'  No.'  Rosabel  was  emphatic  on  that  point. 
*  He  doesn't  want  me,'  she  added.  *  He  has  only 
asked  me  on  your  account.' 

1  Perhaps  so,'  assented  her  mother.  '  Still,  as 
he  has  been  kind  enough — 


ROSABEL  87 

'  I  don't  want  him  to  be  "  kind  "  to  me.' 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  shrugged  her  shoulders,  not 
ill-pleased. 

'  Very  well,  stay  at  home  if  you  like.  I  will 
make  an  excuse  for  you.' 

She  would  have  Aylmer  to  herself,  which  would 
be  much  more  agreeable.  Perhaps — who  knows  ? — a 
few  glasses  of  champagne  would  heat  his  over-cool 
head,  and  bring  him  to  the  point. 

She  hoped  that  Rosabel  would  grow  less  difficult 
as  the  strangeness  wore  off.  It  had  not  occurred 
to  her  that  the  girl  would  be  abnormal,  less  pliable 
than  other  girls.  But  before  a  fortnight  had 
passed  she  realized  unpleasantly  that  Rosabel  was 
as  set  in  some  ways  as  a  woman  of  thirty.  Her 
attitude  of  the  first  few  days  was  maintained, 
and  maintained  unfalteringly.  She  scarcely  spoke 
to  anyone,  and  rarely  laughed  or  even  smiled. 
Whenever  it  was  possible  she  kept  out  of  the  way, 
and  if  the  mother  ventured  upon  a  touch  of  playful 
affection  before  company,  the  daughter's  coldness  was 
palpable  to  all.  Rosabel  had  a  savage  indifference  to 
appearances  indeed,  and  there  were  moments  when 
the  woman,  who  cared  more  about  this  world  than 
the  next,  detested  her.  This  state  of  things  was 
not  conducive  to  amenities  in  private,  when  Mrs. 
Fairbourne  could  safely  vent  her  pent-up  irritation, 
and  many  bitter  and  spiteful  remarks  helped  to 
keep  them  apart. 


88  ROSABEL 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  was  torn,  indeed,  between  desire 
to  indulge  Rosabel's  fancy  to  be  let  alone,  and  fear 
that  the  policy  of  her  inclination  would  destroy 
the  girl's  chances  of  marriage.  And  if  she  did  not 
many  they  would  have  to  go  on  living  together 
indefinitely,  a  prospect  which  filled  Mrs.  Fairbourne 
with  unmitigated  horror.  She  had  already  given 
up  the  attempt  to  make  the  best  of  Rosabel's 
society.  It  was  obviously  waste  of  time. 

'  Has  she  no  feeling  at  all,  or  is  it  only  that  she  is 
quite  stupid  ?'  she  asked  Aylmer.  '  She  looks  at 
me  sometimes  as  though  I  were  talking  to  her  in  a 
foreign  tongue.' 

'  Oh,  you  will  get  on  better  by-and-by,'  he  said 
soothingly.  *  She  is  not  used  to  a  mother,  and 
you  are  not  used  to  a  daughter,  and  she  has 
been  badly  brought  up.  It  might  have  been 
worse.' 

'  Impossible  !'  she  declared  with  conviction. 

'  She  might  have  sworn  at  you  in  dialect !' 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  shuddered. 

'  What  a  horrible  imagination  you  have  !' 

'  And  been  forward  instead  of  shy.' 

'  I  wouldn't  mind  her  being  shy  if  she  were  not 
sulky  as  well.  I  might  be  her  worst  enemy  when 
I  suggest  to  her  that  she  is  making  a  fool  of  herself. 
I  believe  she  hates  me.' 

'  What  an  idea  !' 

*  Of  course,  the  whole  position  is  absurd,'  she 


ROSABEL  89 

insisted.  '  I  should  not  have  expected  anything 
else.  Affection  cannot  be  created  full  grown 
between  two  human  beings  just  because  they 
happen  to  be  parent  and  child.  We  are  as  much 
strangers  to  each  other  as  if  I  had  picked  her  up 
in  the  street.' 

'  Certainly  you  must  find  her  a  husband,'  he 
said. 

'  If  you  were  a  true  friend  you  would  help  me.' 

'  I  have  an  Australian  cousin  just  over.  How 
would  he  do  ?' 

'  Oh,  the  very  thing  !'  she  cried.  *  An  Australian 
cousin  might  find  her  exactly  the  type  he  admired. 
Any  money  ?' 

'  Enough,  I  think.' 

'  Do  bring  him,  there's  a  good  fellow  !  I'll  make 
a  dinner — a  little  private  family  sort  of  dinner, 
you  know,  with  no  outsiders  to  distract  his  atten- 
tion.' 

He  laughed. 

'  Really  ?' 

'  Could  I  joke  on  a  topic  as  serious  as  Rosabel  ?' 
she  asked  reproachfully.  '  I  reckon  on  you.' 

'  Then  I'll  bring  him  to  see  you  to-morrow 
afternoon  if  he  hasn't  an  engagement.' 

*  You  might  tell  him  beforehand,'  she  suggested, 
with  an  air  of  affected  cunning,  'about  the  fifty 
thousand  pounds  !' 

The  next  day  Aylmer  kept  his  word,  and  brought 


9o 


ROSABEL 


his  cousin  to  call  at  Great  Cumberland  Place. 
The  cousin's  name  was  Bellamy,  and  he  was  rather 
a  good-looking  fellow,  big  and  raw,  and  conven- 
tionally colonial,  with  a  sunburnt  throat  emerging 
from  a  turned-down  collar  and  a  brown  beard, 
which  he  tugged  nervously  at  embarrassed  moments. 
No  contrast  could  have  been  greater  than  that 
between  him  and  Aylmer. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  smiled  when  they  were  intro- 
duced. 

'  So  charming  of  you  to  come  and  see  me,  Mr. 
Bellamy  !'  she  said.  *  I  am  in  mourning  at  present, 
and  cut  off  from  the  world,  so  I  am  more  than 
ever  dependent  upon  the  kindness  of  my  friends. 
Where  is  Rosabel  ?' 

Aylmer  rang,  and  Rosabel  was  summoned. 
It  was  an  amusing  fact  that  the  Australian 
seemed  to  take  a  fancy  to  the  girl,  though  she  spoke 
very  little,  as  usual.  The  mother's  perfect  manner 
frightened  him,  no  doubt ;  with  the  daughter  he 
felt  more  at  ease.  His  clumsy  attempts  to  draw 
Rosabel  into  conversation  entertained  Mrs.  Fair- 
bourne  and  Aylmer  hugely,  and  in  the  spirit  of 
hilarity  which  had  procured  his  introduction  they 
talked  to  each  other,  and  gave  the  parti's  budding 
inclination  every  chance. 

He  was  telling  Rosabel  about  his  life  in  Australia, 
and  she  roused  a  little,  and  asked  questions. 
She  was  heard  to  remark  that  the  freedom  and 


ROSABEL  91 

the  horse-riding  might  be  attractive,  and  he 
longed,  with  eagerness,  to  see  her  out  there  some 
day. 

Then  it  was  time  to  go ;  unfortunately,  he  had 
an  appointment  with  a  friend. 

'  I  was  just  saying  to  your  cousin  that  I  hoped 
you  would  both  come  and  dine  with  us,'  said  Mrs. 
Fairbourne,  as  the  big  Australian  took  his  leave 
of  her.  '  Are  you  free  on  Saturday  ?  It  will  not 
be  a  party,  as  we  are  in  mourning — just  a  few 
intimate  friends.' 

Bellamy  was  delighted,  and  said  so.  The  cousins 
went  away  together. 

'  Mr.  Bellamy  seems  to  be  rather  a  nice  man,' 
observed  Mrs.  Fairbourne  lightly.  '  You  got  on 
very  well,  didn't  you,  Rosabel  ?' 

'  I  couldn't  help  listening  if  he  would  talk,'  said 
Rosabel. 

This  was  unpromising. 
'  Don't  you  like  him  ?' 

'  I  don't  like  or  dislike  him,'  replied  Rosabel 
impatiently. 

Nevertheless,  Mrs.  Fairbourne  placed  her  guests 
carefully  on  Saturday — they  were  just  half  a  dozen — 
and  sent  Rosabel  down  to  dinner  with  Bellamy. 
Aylmer  and  herself  made  four,  and  the  other  two 
consisted  of  a  fashionable  lady  novelist  who  was 
as  brilliant  in  conversation  as  on  paper,  and  a  smart 
editor  of  an  equally  smart  review.  These  people, 


92  ROSABEL 

herself  and  Aylmer,  would  talk  without  stopping 
all  through  dinner,  and  Rosabel  and  Bellamy  would 
be  obliged  to  entertain  each  other.  It  would  be 
amusing  if  something  really  came  of  the  joke. 
She  attached  no  importance  to  Rosabel's  paraded 
indifference.  There  are  girls  who  are  ashamed  of 
admitting  a  preference  for  any  man.  If  only  this 
man  would  marry  her,  and  take  her  back  to  Australia 
with  him  !  In  the  lull  she  heard  his  voice. 

'  Then  you  never  saw  your  mother  till  lately  ? 
Where  did  your  aunt  live  ?' 

'  At  a  little  hotel  near  the  Thames,  in  Bucking- 
hamshire, called  the  Angler's  Inn.' 

Mrs.  Fairbourne's  white  teeth  gleamed  in  a  hor- 
rible smile.  The  lady  novelist  was  still  talking 
on  the  other  side  of  her,  so  Rosabel  and  Bellamy 
did  not  notice  that  they  were  being  observed. 

'  What  made  her  choose  such  a  funny  place  ?' 
asked  the  Australian,  naturally  bewildered. 

'  She  earned  her  living  there,'  said  Rosabel, 
quite  calm.  '  She  kept  it,  you  know.  I  helped  her. 
I  used  to  wait  on  the  coffee-room.' 

'  You  !'  he  stammered.  *  But  your  mother — 
Mrs.  Fairbourne ' 

She  intervened  promptly. 

'  Who  is  taking  my  name  in  vain  ?  Mr.  Bellamy, 
you  have  no  wine.  Do  look  after  yourself.  This 
is  Liberty  Hall,  you  know.' 

It   was   nothing   of   the   sort.     The   disorder   of 


ROSABEL  93 

Great  Cumberland  Place  was  always  carefully 
ordered,  and  the  freedom  of  speech  exactly  the 
tone  of  the  moment,  but  for  once  no  sensible  im- 
promptu had  sprung  to  her  lips. 

She  looked  a  reprimand  at  Rosabel,  and  for  the 
remainder  of  the  dinner  monopolized  Bellamy 
herself,  recalling  all  she  had  ever  heard  of  Australia? 
and  inventing  friends  at  Sydney  and  Melbourne 
to  amuse  him.  And  she  succeeded  so  well  in  sinking 
to  his  level  that  he  began  to  think  her  charming 
in  spite  of  the  extraordinary  revelations  of  her 
daughter. 

Certainly,  the  control  she  had  over  her  temper 
was  wonderful,  and  even  Aylmer,  who  thought  he 
knew  her,  did  not  see  what  a  rage  she  was  in  until 
the  others  were  gone. 

As  usual,-  he  was  the  lingerer.  They  had  an 
appointment  to  make,  and  she  could  always  find 
something  to  say  at  the  last  moment  in  order  to 
detain  him,  and  impart  to  their  intercourse  that 
touch  of  superior  intimacy  which  is  flattering  to 
man. 

On  this  occasion  she  was  not  thinking  of  him. 
Her  self-control  had  deserted  her  for  once.  Directly 
the  door  closed  on  the  lady  novelist,  she  turned  to 
Rosabel  with  lightning  in  her  eyes. 

'  What  did  you  mean,'  she  demanded,  '  by  speak- 
ing to  Mr.  Bellamy  in  that  way  ?  How  dared 
you  !' 


94  ROSABEL 

'  In  what  way  ?'  asked  Rosabel. 

*  You  understand  me  very  well ;  don't  be  a  hypo- 
crite !  What  did  you  mean  by  telling  him  over 
dinner,  before  everybody,  all  about  your  aunt, 
the  publican's  wife,  and  the  Angler's  Inn  ?' 

'  I  didn't  tell  him  anything  that  wasn't  true.' 

'That  is  not  the  question.  I  forbade  you  to 
mention  your  past  to  anyone.' 

Rosabel  looked  up,  her  face  dark  with  anger. 

'  I  didn't  promise  not  to,'  she  said.  '  I  never 
begin  to  talk  about  it.  But  he  asked  me.' 

'  You  could  have  put  him  off  easily.  You 
wished  to  tell  hinij  that  is  the  fact  of  the  matter. 
I  have  tried  to  believe  several  times  that  your 
behaviour  was  mere  stupidity,  but  it  becomes 
quite  plain  that  it  is  malice  as  well.  You  seem 
to  take  a  delight  in  disgracing  me.' 

Rosabel  drew  on  the  carpet  with  the  point  of 
her  shoe.  A  rude  answer  would  have  exasperated 
her  mother  less.  This  habit  she  had  of  seeking 
refuge  in  silence  tried  Mrs.  Fairbourne's  temper 
beyond  endurance. 

'  I  can  assure  you,'  she  continued,  '  that  you 
need  not  take  so  much  trouble.  Your  ordinary 
manners  are  quite  sufficient  to  show  people  how 
ignorant  and  ill-bred  you  are.' 

Still  Rosabel  did  not  answer. 

Aylmer  wondered  at  the  peculiar  self-control 
possessed  by  so  young  a  girl.  Somehow  he  did 


ROSABEL  95 

not  think  this  evening  that  she  was  obtuse. 
Perhaps  he  had  never  watched  her  as  closely  before. 
He  began  to  feel  sorry  for  her.  If  she  cared  it 
was  hard  that  her  mother  should  scold  her  before 
him.  She  was  not  a  child.  Amy  grated  on  him 
for  once,  although  she  had  excuse,  apparently,  for 
annoyance. 

'  I  should  have  thought  that  the  least  you  could 
do  was  to  make  the  best  of  yourself,'  added  Mrs. 
Fairbourne,  '  but  I  suppose  you  don't  know  the 
meaning  of  decency.  You  are  your  father's 
daughter,  my  dear.' 

*  Don't,'  said  Aylmer  softly. 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  Her  colour 
rose. 

'  Oh,  forgive  me,'  she  said,  resuming  her  normal 
manner  with  an  effort,  '  for  boring  you  with  my 
domestic  afflictions.  You  do  so  hate  "  words," 
don't  you  ?' 

'  I  must  be  going,'  he  replied. 

'  Must  you  ?'  She  was  a  little  uncertain  of 
him.  He  was  actually  serious.  It  did  not  make 
her  feel  better  disposed  towards  Rosabel.  But 
her  voice  grew  assured  once  more.  *  When  shall 
I  see  you  again  ?' 

'  I'll  look  in  soon.  Good-night,  Rosabel,'  he 
said. 

Rosabel    had    been     gazing    at    him    curiously 


96  ROSABEL 

since  he  dropped  that  single  word  of  expostula- 
tion. 

He  pressed  her  hand  slightly. 

The  girl,  who  had  grown  pale  under  the  lash  of 
her  mother's  tongue,  turned  very  red,  and  her  lips 
quivered  for  the  first  time.  She  bit  them  sharply, 
and  went  to  bed  without  a  word. 


CHAPTER  XI 

IT  always  pleases  a  man  to  discover  that  he  is  better- 
natured  than  he  had  supposed.  This  may  have 
accounted  for  the  fact  that  Aylmer  thought  a 
great  deal  about  Rosabel  over  his  final  whisky- 
and-soda  and  cigarette  that  night.  Or  his  interest 
may  have  been  awakened  by  signs  of  an  unexpected 
sensitiveness  in  the  daughter  caused  by  an  equally 
unexpected  shrewishness  in  the  mother. 

Yes,  '  shrewishness  *  was  the  word  his  mind  used. 
Amy  Fairbourne's  tongue  was  always  a  little 
barbed.  A  woman  who  has  to  live  up  to  a  repu- 
tation for  smartness  is  bound  to  be  spiteful 
sometimes.  But  to-night  her  rapier  had  become 
a  cudgel. 

'  Not  vulgar,'  he  mused.  *  No,  it  would  be  harsh 
to  say  "  vulgar."  A  little  brutal,  perhaps.  After 
all,  the  girl  must  feel  something.  Why  does  she 
never  answer  back  ?' 

One  kind  of  '  young  person  '  would  have  had  an 
impertinent  retort  for  every  gibe.  And  another 
kind  of  '  3'oung  person,'  being  tongue-tied  by  anger, 

97  7 


98  ROSABEL 

or  fright,  or  both,  would  have  burst  into  tears,  and 
flounced  out  of  the  room. 

Rosabel,  having  stood  her  ground  in  silence, 
must  therefore  be  a  somewhat  unusual  young 
person,  who  was  less  a  type  than  an  individual. 
She  had  characteristics,  if  they  were  only  those  of  a 
feather-bed  which  may  be  shaken  up  by  every 
strong  pair  of  arms.  Could  it  be  possible  that  she 
was  worth  studying  ? 

His  reflections  did  not  spoil  his  night's  rest. 
He  was  not  so  deeply  in  love  with  the  fair  widow 
that  the  discovery  of  a  flaw  in  her  temper  should 
cause  him  pangs.  His  sentiment  was  rather  of 
that  moonlight  order  which  fails  to  distinguish 
between  gratitude  for  a  good  dinner  and  a  pretty 
woman's  preference,  and  those  warmer  symptoms 
of  the  grand  passion.  Usually  he  liked  her  very 
much,  and  for  five  minutes  this  evening  he  had 
not  liked  her  very  much — that  was  all.  So  he  slept 
without  dreaming,  and  woke  at  his  usual  hour  in 
the  morning  with  no  nasty  taste  in  his  mouth  of 
either  dissipation  or  disappointment  overnight. 

But  that  afternoon,  when  a  stroll  in  the  Park 
brought  him  to  the  Marble  Arch  about  five  o'clock, 
he  thought  he  would  look  in  at  Great  Cumberland 
Place  to  see  how  the  domestic  storm  had  ended. 

It  was  a  disappointment  when  his  query  at  the 
door  brought  the  wrong  reply. 

'  Mrs.  Fairbourne  is  not  at  home,  sir.' 


ROSABEL  99 

'  And  Miss — er — Fairbourne  ?'  he  asked,  almost 
to  his  own  surprise. 

'  Miss  Fairbourne  is  in,  sir.' 

Aylmcr  went  up.  How  many  times  had  he 
ascended  and  descended  that  staircase,  with  its 
moss-green  carpet,  and  white  walls  adorned  by  old 
prints  which  there  was  not  light  enough  to  see  ! 
On  this  occasion  his  usual  impassiveness  was  a 
little  shaken.  There  was  unfamiliarity  about  the 
mere  familiarity  of  things.  Why  had  he  asked  for 
Rosabel  ?  Did  he  really  care  whether  mother  and 
daughter  had  made  it  up  or  not  ?  He  was  inclined 
to  retreat. 

Still  he  continued — out  of  sheer  indecision,  and 
inability  to  excuse  himself  to  Benson,  on  whose 
countenance  he  had  already  detected  a  gleam  of 
curiosity. 

Rosabel  was  at  the  window  reading  when  he  was 
announced. 

'  How  do  you  do  ?'  she  said.  '  Mother  is  out. 
Didn't  Benson  tell  you  ?' 

'  Yes.     I  thought  I  would  come  up  and  see  you.' 

'  Why  ?'  asked  the  girl  bluntly.  '  Do  you  want 
me  to  give  her  a  message  ?' 

'  No.     I  just  came  to  see  how  you  were.' 

She  stared  at  him  in  grave  surprise,  evidently 
finding  his  conduct  strange. 

'  Shan't  we  sit  down  ?'  he  asked,  dropping  lazily 
into  a.  deep  chair.  '  I  must  say  you  are  not  very 

7—2 


100 


ROSABEL 


hospitable,  Rosabel !  I  believe  you'd  rather  I  went 
away !' 

« N — no,'  she  said.  Her  cheeks  reddened,  and 
her  long  lashes  drooped.  She  fidgeted  with  her 
book. 

'  What  are  you  reading  ?' 

'  "  In  the  Cage."  ' 

'  Do  you  like  it  ?' 

*  I  think  it's  a  lot  of  talk  about  nothing.' 

He  was  amused. 

'  What  sort  of  books  do  you  like  ?' 

'  I  used  to  read  the  Family  Trumpet  and  the 
Weekly  Magazine.  I  think  they're  good  stories.' 
She  looked  up  with  a  challenge  in  her  eyes,  and 
enunciated  slowly  and  deliberately  :  *  Mother  says 
they  are  vulgar  trash,  and  only  fit  for  kitchen- 
maids,  and  that  I  am  not  to  read  them.' 

'  Do  you  like  Charles  Dickens  ?' 

'  Charles  Dickens  ?'  she  repeated.  *  He  wrote 
"  Vanity  Fair,"  didn't  he  ?' 

There  was  a  pause.  Conversation  was  difficult. 
Nevertheless,  he  had  the  impression  that  she  was 
favourably  disposed  towards  him  this  afternoon, 
which  encouraged  him  to  persevere. 

'  Has  your  mother  said  any  more  to  you  ?'  he 
asked  in  a  low  tone. 

'  No.'  She  flashed  him  a  brief,  vivid  glance. 
*  It  was  nice  of  you  to  say  "  Don't."  ' 

'  Was  it  ?' 


ROSABEL  101 

'  I  thought  about  it  afterwards,'  she  told  him. 

His  doubts  were  all  at  rest.  She  '  thought 
about '  things  '  afterwards.'  Then  she  was  not  a 
feather-bed.  He  was  inspired  with  renewed  energy , 

'  Did  you  care  ?'  he  queried,  curious.  '  About 
your  mother,  I  mean  ?' 

*  No.  At  least,  I  shouldn't  have  if  you  hadn't 
been  there,'  she  said  honestly.  '  Why  should  I  ?' 

'  You  ought  to  care  what  your  mother  says.' 

'  My  mother !'  she  repeated.  '  My  mother  !' 
She  laughed. 

'  And  surely  she  had  cause  to  be  angry  ?' 

'  Do  you  think  so  ?'  asked  Rosabel.  '  Why  should 
she  be  angry  at  having  something  talked  about  that 
she  wasn't  ashamed  to  do  ?' 

Her  tone  was  a  revelation  to  him.  He  seemed 
to  be  seeing  her  for  the  first  time.  The  torpid, 
sullen  child  had  disappeared.  This  was  a  woman, 
and  a  woman  who  could  think  and  feel. 

'  Then  you  did  tell  my  cousin  on  purpose  ?' 

'  I  shouldn't  have  said  anything  if  he  hadn't 
asked.  But  I  am  glad  he  asked,  and  glad  she  heard, 
and  glad  she  didn't  like  it.  I'd  do  it  again  !'  She 
choked.  '  Suppose  I  have  got  the  tastes  of  a  kitchen- 
maid  ;  suppose  I  am  ignorant  and  stupid  and  ill-bred  ! 
What  else  did  she  expect  ?  If  she  doesn't  like  my 
manners,  she  has  only  herself  to  thank  for  them. 
I  am  what  she  has  made  me.' 

'  You  mean  that  your  education  was  neglected  ?' 


102  ROSABEL 

*  You  saw  where  I  was,  and  what  I  was  !     Life 
in  a  public-house  doesn't  usually  turn  out  perfect 
ladies,  does  it  ?     Why  did  she  leave  me  there  ?' 

The  girl's  voice,  sarcastic  and  poignant,  sent  a 
thrill  down  Aylmer's  spine. 

'  I  couldn't  help  it  if  my  father  was  a  groom. 
She  chose  him,  I  didn't.  And  whatever  he  was, 
he  must  have  been  better,  I  think,  than  she  is.  If 
/  had  a  child  I  wouldn't  desert  it.  She's  got  more 
to  be  ashamed  of  than  I  have  !' 

'  But  she  is  doing  her  best  for  you  now.' 

Rosabel  snorted. 

'  Because  she  can't  help  herself,  that's  all.  She 
wants  the  two  thousand  a  year.  Otherwise,  I 
might  have  stopped  at  the  Angler's  Inn  all  my  life.' 

Everything  she  said  was  true,  but  it  was  so 
remarkable  and  so  interesting  that  she  should  see  it ! 

'  You  are  bitter.  It's  a  mistake.'  He  shook 
his  head.  *  You'll  never  get  on  if  you  start  with 
such  prejudices.' 

*  I  don't  care.' 

'  Why  not  let  bygones  be  bygones  ?' 

Her  eyes  wandered  from  his  face  to  the  window. 

'  I  used  to  sit,'  she  said  darkly,  '  and  think  and 
think.  When  I  waited  on  the  customers  I  was 
thinking.  I  thought  most  of  all  that  day  she  came 
to  the  inn.  She's  very  pretty  and  elegant  and 
clever,  isn't  she  ?  Such  a  lady  !' 

'  Yes,'  said  Aylmer,  with  peculiar  reluctance. 


ROSABEL  103 

'  I  admire  her  immensely,'  said  Rosabel.  '  I 
don't  know  anybody  I've  seen  that  I  admire  so 
much.' 

He  stared  at  her  profile. 

'  And  yet  you  are  doing  your  best  to  make  her 
unhappy.' 

'  Oh,  she  won't  be  unhappy  on  my  account,' 
said  Rosabel,  with  the  brutal  frankness  which  had 
succeeded  to  her  long  reserve.  '  I  am  no  more  than 
the  dirt  under  her  feet.' 

'  I  saw  her  kiss  you  the  other  day.' 

'  Yes,  before  company.'  She  frowned  in  quick 
irritation,  and  clenched  her  hands,  '  I  won't  have 
it !'  she  said.  '  She  shan't  touch  me.  I  don't  want 
her  kisses.  I'll  never,  never  have  them  !' 

'  Even  if  they  were  given — not  before  company  ?' 

'  No.  It's  too  late.  She'd  only  be  trying  to 
make  herself  comfortable.' 

She  had  become  as  lucid  as  crystal.  He  seemed 
to  see  right  through  her  head. 

*  And  you  won't  help  her  ?' 

'  She's  being  paid  well.  That  is  enough — too 
much.' 

'  Do  you  know,  I  hadn't  an  idea  that  you  were 
taking  everything  so  seriously  ?' 

'  I  don't  talk  about  it  as  a  rule.  What's  the 
good  ?  I've  never  told  anybody  before.  I  don't 
know  why  I've  told  you,  except  that  you  were 
nice  last  night.'  She  turned  her  head  now,  and 


104  ROSABEL 

regarded  him  defiantly.  '  I  dare  say  you  think  I'm 
funny  ?' 

'  No,'  said  Aylmer. 

'  If  you  repeat  anything  to  her,  I'll — I'll  hate 
you  !  She'd  think  I  minded.  And  ifs  too  late.1 

'  I  shall  regard  our  conversation  as  confidential.' 

'  You're  great  friends  with  her,  aren't  you  ?' 

'  Yes,  rather.' 

'  Of  course,  I  can  understand  it,'  said  Rosabel. 

*  I  should  think  she  was  a  most  fascinating  woman 
— to  strangers,  I  mean — to  men.' 

He  did  not  reply,  and  a  moment  elapsed  before 
he  spoke  again. 

'  Why  are  you  usually  so  silent  ?' 

'  I've  nothing  to  say.     I  don't  know  anything.' 

*  Very  few  girls  do  know  anything.     A  girl  isn't 
expected  to  be  a  witty  woman  of  the  world.' 

'  Nobody  cares  about  me,  or  wants  to  listen  to 
me.' 

'  I  think  you  are  wrong,'  he  said  deliberately. 

*  My  cousin  liked  you  !' 

'  He  comes  from  a  village  in  Australia  where 
there  aren't  any  women.'  Her  voice  was  distinctly 
contemptuous.  'I'know  what  I  am,'  she  added. 
'  I've  no  illusions.' 

*  You  have  delusions,  I  think.     One  of  them  is 
that  your  mother  has  the  monopoly  of  feminine 
beauty  and  attraction.     You  are  good-looking  too.' 

*  Do  you  think  so  ?'     She  coloured  warmly,  and 


ROSABEL  105 

a  gleam  of  reluctant  pleasure  lighted  her  face. 
'  But  I  have  no  elegance,  no  manner,'  she  added 
gloomily,  '  She  is  so  distinguished.  One  would 
notice  her  in  a  crowd.' 

'  You  are  better-looking  than  your  mother.' 

'  Oh,  how  can  you  say  so  !'  Rosabel  was  actually 
angry.  '  You  are  only  trying  to  be  kind  again.' 

'  And  you  have  what  no  amount  of  style  can 
give  back  to  a  woman — youth.  So  you  need  not 
complain.' 

She  was  still  in  a  glow  despite  her  protestations, 
and  her  lowered  lashes  fluttered,  and  the  corners 
of  her  lips  quivered. 

'  I  think  I  must  go  now,'  said  Aylmer.  He  rose, 
picking  up  his  stick,  and  she  rose  too.  '  I  am  glad 
we  have  had  this  talk,'  he  added.  '  But  I  wish 
you  would  forget  your  grievances,  for  your  own 
sake,  and  try  to  be  happy.' 

'  I  shall  never  be  happy,'  said  the  girl. 

'  Why  not  ?     What  an  idea  !' 

'  Happiness  has  to  come  from  the  inside.  I 
haven't  got  the  temperament.  I  was  brought  up 
in  a  way  I  didn't  like.  And  now  I'm  too  old  to 
change.' 

'  At  nineteen  !  My  dear  child,  the  whole  of  your 
life  is  before  you  !' 

'  But  I'm  made,'  she  said.  '  I  can't  be  made  over 
again.  I've  got  to  be  just  myself.  Will  you  laugh 
at  me  when  you're  gone  ?' 


106  ROSABEL 

'  How  suspicious  you  are !'  he  said.  '  I  am 
flattered  that  you  should  have  trusted  me.  I  want 
you  to  regard  me  as  a  friend.  Will  you  ?  Talk 
again  another  day,  whenever  you  like.' 

'  Yes,  thank  you.' 

*  Good-bye,  Rosabel.' 

They  exchanged   the  hand-clasp  of  confidence. 
She  moved  towards  the  door  with  him. 
'  I  haven't  offered  you  any  tea.' 

*  Never  mind.     I  don't  care  for  it.' 

He  nodded  again,  smiling,  handsome,  urbane,  and 
went  his  way. 

'  I  wonder  if  he'll  tell  her  ?'  mused  Rosabel, 
biting  her  lips.  '  I  wish  I  hadn't  said  anything. 
Why  did  I  ?' 

Aylmer  left  the  house  meditatively.  An  experi- 
ence, which  was  the  last  he  had  looked  for,  had 
infused  a  little  unwonted  heat  into  his  veins.  His 
was  usually  regarded  as  a  rather  cold  and  deliberate 
nature.  He  was  not  really  cold,  only  it  was  so 
rarely  worth  while  getting  warm. 

His  reflections  were  involved,  and  he  had  a 
peculiar  reluctance  to  pursue  them  far.  But  he 
was  obliged  to  admit  sympathy  for  Rosabel,  and 
sympathy  for  Rosabel  brought  him  once  more  face 
to  face  with  the  inverse  problem  of  her  mother. 
Amy  had  behaved  badly.  There  was  no  doubt 
about  it.  And  the  girl  was  painfully  awake  to  it,: 
and  when  she  talked  from  her  heart  she  lighted  up 


ROSABEL  107 

wonderfully.  She  was  even  taking.  Her  anger 
was  like  the  elements — violent,  natural,  and  unre- 
strained ;  a  primitive  force  in  an  artificial  environ- 
ment. Aylmer  felt  as  though  a  thunder-shower 
had  relieved  the  oppression  of  a  muggy  night. 
She  was  refreshing,  that  was  it — refreshing  and  new. 

He  threw  back  his  shoulders,  and  drew  a  deep 
breath.  The  thunder-shower  simile  had  had  almost 
a  physical  effect  upon  him,  so  closely  is  a  man's  body 
allied  to  his  mind. 

A  victoria  passed  him  at  that  moment,  sweeping 
out  of  the  Park,  and  he  caught  sight  of  well-known 
liveries,  a  fluffy  sunshade,  and  a  white  face  framed 
in  gold. 

He  frowned  more  than  was  warranted  by  the  sun- 
light in  his  eyes. 

'  She  is  older  than  I  thought,'  he  mused.  *  With 
a  daughter  of  nineteen,  she  can  scarcely  be  less 
than  thirty-seven.' 


CHAPTER  XII 

'  Is  that  Mr.  Aylmer  ?'  asked  Mrs.  Fairbourne. 

She  and  Rosabel  were  walking  down  Bond  Street j 
a  couple  of  days  later,  behind  a  pair  of  familiar 
broad  shoulders. 

'  I  think  so,'  said  Rosabel. 

She  knew,  so  did  her  mother.  But  while  Mrs. 
Fairbourne  was  more  than  willing  to  overtake  him, 
Rosabel  shirked  the  meeting.  Her  reserved  nature 
was  shocked  every  time  she  recalled  the  burst  of 
confidence  to  which  she  had  treated  him,  and  her 
cheeks  grew  hot  over  the  mere  memory  of  it  a  dozen 
times  a  day.  She  was  sure  that  she  had  made  her- 
self ridiculous.  He  had  restrained  his  amusement 
merely  because  he  was  polite.  She  despised  herself 
for  being  so  easily  bought  by  a  word  of  kindness. 
He  belonged  to  the  opposition — to  her  mother's 
party  ;  he  was  the  archetype  of  that  class  which 
made  allusions  and  innuendoes  she  could  not  follow, 
and  laughed  at  jokes  she  could  not  understand.  It 
was  absurd  of  her  to  have  forgotten  it. 

She  wished  he  would  cross  over,  but  fate  was 
1 08 


ROSABEL  109 

against  her.     He  lingered  to  look  at  a  shop-window, 
and  her  mother  would  not  pass  him. 

Rosabel  hung  back  while  he  greeted  Mrs.  Fair- 
bourne  ;  then  he  turned  to  her  with  a  new  sympathy. 

'  And  how  is  Rosabel  to-day  ?' 

'  I  am  so  sorry  I  was  out  when  you  called  the 
other  afternoon,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne,  without 
giving  Rosabel  time  to  speak.  '  You  should  have 
waited.' 

'  I  stayed  a  little  while.  Rosabel  entertained 
me.' 

The  woman  laughed  rather  cruelly. 

'  I  am  afraid  you  must  have  found  it  even  more 
fatiguing  than  whist  with  your  grandfather  !  Oh, 
you  needn't  exert  yourself  to  say  anything  pretty  ! 
Rosabel  doesn't  care  !' 

Didn't  she  ?  He  glanced  at  the  girl,  and  differed 
from  her  mother. 

'  How  unkind  you  are  !'  he  said  dexterously. 
'  You  tell  me,  in  as  many  words,  that  Rosabel  con- 
siders my  opinion  of  no  consequence  whatever.' 
He  smiled.  '  All  the  same,  I  will  return  good  for 
svil.  Will  both  you  ladies  take  tea  with  me  ?' 

'  Of  course  we  will.' 

'  Over  the  way  ?'  he  queried.  '  The  latest,  I 
believe — a  Dutch  interior,  with  the  countesses,  who 
:ondescend  to  wait  upon  one,  in  real  Dutch  cos- 
tumes !' 

When  they  entered  the  tea-room  the}'  came  upon 


IIO  ROSABEL 

a  smart  young  man  of  their  acquaintance,  who  was 
invited  by  Aylmer  to  join  them.  Under  cover  of 
the  conversation  between  him  and  Mrs.  Fairbourne, 
Aylmer  spoke  to  Rosabel. 

'  Well,  how  are  you  getting  on  ?'  he  asked.  '  I 
suppose  you  haven't  seen  or  heard  anything  of  my 
cousin  ?  He  has  just  bought  a  motor.  I  met  him 
last  night,  full  of  the  enthusiasm  of  the  proselyte. 
He  wants  to  know  if  you  and  your  mother  would 
like  to  take  a  run  down  to  Folkestone  from  Saturday 
till  Monday  ?' 

'  I've  never  been  in  a  motor,'  said  Rosabel. 

She  thawed,  and  her  eyes  sparkled  a  little.  She 
was  young,  after  all ;  she  could  not  always  be 
brooding  over  her  grievances. 

'  Then  I  may  tell  him  that  a  formal  invitation 
would  be  regarded  kindly  ?' 

'  I  don't  know,'  she  said.  '  You'd  better  ask 
mother.  Would  you  come,  too  ?' 

*  Probably.' 

He  mentioned  the  matter  to  Mrs.  Fairbourne  at 
once,  and  it  pleased  her.  A  letter  from  Bellamy 
the  same  evening  won  a  gracious  acceptance  from 
the  lady,  and  Saturday  morning  being  fine,  found 
them  all  en  route  for  Folkestone. 

For  once  Rosabel  was  in  good  spirits.  As  they 
were  supposed  to  be  in  mourning,  the  girl  had  really 
seen  and  done  very  little  during  her  three  weeks  at 
Great  Cumberland  Place.  The  couple  of  informal 


ROSABEL  in 

dinners  and  luncheons  her  mother  had  given  had 
been  merely  sources  of  accentuated  dulness,  bitter- 
ness, and  repining  to  Rosabel,  who  had  found  herself 
to  be  the  only  outsider  in  a  brilliant  set.  On  each 
occasion  she  had  been  more  or  less  neglected,  and 
suffered  an  agony  of  mortification,  and  shed  tears 
in  private  when  the  guests  were  gone.  And  Mrs. 
Fairbourne,  having  given  her  intimate  friends  a 
hint  that  they  need  not  ask  her  daughter  when  no 
other  quite  young  people  were  expected,  Rosabel's 
amusements  had  been  confined  to  a  few  afternoon 
calls,  a  concert,  and  a  picture-gallery. 

To-day's  excursion  was  something  fresh  and 
welcome,  and  although  Rosabel  would  not  admit 
to  herself  that  it  was  possible  to  feel  light-hearted, 
something  very  like  exhilaration  sent  the  blood  to 
her  round  cheeks,  and  brightened  her  eyes  at  the 
sharp  contact  of  the  air. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  and  Aylmer  occupied  the  front 
double  seat  behind  the  chauffeur ;  Rosabel  sat 
beside  Bellamy  in  the  back  one.  He  was  making 
violent  efforts  to  be  civil  to  her,  and  gave  her  to 
understand  by-and-by  that  the  little  week-end 
party  had  been  organized  especially  on  her  account. 
This  surprised  Rosabel,  and  glancing  at  him  to  see 
if  he  could  be  in  earnest,  she  discovered  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  her  face  with  an  expression  only  to  be 
described  as  '  moony,'  and  understood  therefrom 
that  the  Australian  was  '  taking  a  fancy  '  to  her. 


H2  ROSABEL 

Why  should  her  thoughts  have  reverted  to  her 
aunt  and  the  Angler's  Inn  at  this  moment  ?  She 
might  have  been  standing  in  the  bar  parlour  while 
Mrs.  Collins,  plump  arms  akimbo,  gossiped  with  a 
friend  from  the  village. 

'  So  What's-his-name  is  taking  a  fancy  to  So-and- 
so.  What  a  good  thing  for  the  girl !' 

The  very  smell  of  the  beer  was  in  her  nostrils. 

She  emerged  from  a  dream.  The  unconscious 
Bellamy  was  calling  her  attention  to  a  wayside  farm 
which  reminded  him,  he  said,  of  his  place  at  home. 

She  surveyed  him  broodingly,  unabashed  ;  Rosa- 
bel was  only  shy  when  she  found  herself  inferior  to 
her  company.  She  noted  his  blunt  features  more 
particularly  than  she  had  ever  done  before,  his 
broad  yet  rounded  shoulders,  the  display  of  bronzed 
bull-like  throat,  the  clothes  which  seemed  remini- 
scent of  the  Antipodes  because  he  wore  them, 
although  they  had  been  cut  by  a  good  tailor  in 
London.  The  man  was  homely  in  manner  and 
speech ;  that  was  what  made  her  think  of  the 
Angler's  Inn.  He  would  not  have  been  out  of  place 
talking  to  her  aunt  between  draughts  of  beer,  in  the 
slurring  burr  of  the  countryman. 

On  that  look  of  his  her  imagination  had  already 
forged  ahead,  in  the  way  of  girls,  to  the  possible  con- 
clusion. She  was  alive  to  the  advantages  of  marry- 
ing him.  He  would  take  her  away  from  her  mother, 
there  would  be  the  dignity  conferred  by  a  wedding- 


ROSABEL  113 

ring,  and  it  would  be  pleasant  to  be  loved  and  to 
begin  a  new  life  in  a  new  world  where  the  majority 
of  people  were  no  better  educated  than  herself. 

Nevertheless,  she  did  not  contemplate  him  seri- 
ously. Something  told  her  that  her  mind,  though 
untrained,  was  superior  to  his — not  cleverer,  perhaps 
— finer.  She  had  already  seen  enough  of  him  to 
know  that  she  could  appreciate  subtleties  of  con- 
science and  conduct  invisible  to  him.  Probably 
she  stood  alone — below  the  class  which  at  once 
attracted  and  scorched  her  with  the  unconscious 
cruelty  of  the  candle  to  the  moth,  deprived,  by 
secret  pride,  of  the  only  companionship  she  was 
likely  to  obtain.  She  did  not  feel  flattered  by  his 
attentions,  and  discouraged  them. 

They  had  lunch  on  the  road,  and  arrived  at  Folke- 
stone in  time  for  tea. 

It  was  Rosabel's  first  experience  of  a  large 
fashionable  hotel,  and  she  liked  to  watch  the 
people  and  listen  to  the  orchestra  ;  but  she  wanted 
to  go  out,  too,  and  look  at  the  sea,  which  she  had 
not  seen  since  she  spent  a  fortnight  at  Margate 
three  years  ago. 

After  tea  they  went  for  a  stroll,  and  Aylmer 
changed  off  with  his  cousin  and  joined  Rosabel. 

'  Is  this  your  first  visit  to  Folkestone,  made- 
moiselle ?' 

*  Yes.  Doesn't  it  smell  fresh  ?'  said  Rosabel, 
sniffing  the  salt  air. 

8 


n4  ROSABEL 

'  As  fresh  as  you  look,'  he  replied. 

In  fact,  she  looked  to-day  just  as  she  ought  to 
look  always — young,  open-faced,  clear-eyed,  un- 
weighted by  thoughts  too  heavy  for  her  years. 

*  I  enjoyed  coming  down,'   she  said.     '  I  think 
motors  are  splendid.' 

'  Bellamy  will  be  delighted  at  his  success.  Did 
you  tell  him  ?' 

She  regarded  him  steadily,  considering  her  reply. 
It  did  not  suit  her  to  be  as  candid  with  everyone 
over  this  matter  as  she  had  been  with  herself.  She 
would  not  even  admit  that  she  understood. 

*  No  ;  mother  thanked  him.     It  doesn't  matter 
about  me.' 

'  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?'  he  asked  mischievously. 

Rosabel  turned  her  face  to  the  sea.  She  did  not 
want  to  talk  about  Bellamy  or  think  at  all. 

They  re-entered  to  the  hotel  by-and-by,  and  Rosa- 
bel was  waiting  in  the  hall  for  her  mother,  who  had 
gone  upstairs,  when  a  familiar  voice  addressed  her  : 

'  Why,  it's  actually  Rosabel !' 

Rosabel  turned,  and  found  Maurice  Braithwaite 
beside  her.  The  colour  rushed  to  her  face.  If  he 
was  surprised,  she  was  equally  so.  It  seemed 
strange  to  meet  someone  belonging  to  the  old  life 
here. 

He  was  staring  at  her  with  an  exaggerated  aston- 
ishment which  was  only  half  assumed,  his  eyes 
rounded,  his  mouth  open.  Then  he  laughed,  as 


ROSABEL  115 

at  a  very  good  joke  indeed,  and  held  out  his 
hand. 

'  Well,  I'm  blessed  !  How  did  you  get  here  ? 
And  such  a  swell,  too  !  What  mysterious  promo- 
tion is  this  ?' 

Rosabel  had  never  liked  him,  and  she  was  not 
pleased  to  see  him  now.  She  remembered  that  he 
had  been  rude  to  her  at  their  last  meeting,  and  his 
familiarity  was  aggressive.  He  reminded  her  dis- 
agreeably of  the  past.  That  she  should  ever  have 
been  in  the  position  to  be  regarded  as  '  fair  game  ' 
by  a  man  of  Maurice  Braithwaite's  type  was  her 
bitterest  grievance.  And  now  to-day  of  all  days, 
just  as  she  was  feeling  happy  for  once,  he  turned  up 
to  cast  a  gloom  over  her. 

'  I  didn't  expect  to  meet  you,'  she  said.  '  Didn't 
you  hear  I'd  gone  away  ?' 

*  No  ;  I've  been  away  myself.     Are  you  married  ' 
— he  laughed  again — '  and  on  your  honeymoon  ?' 

'  I  am  living  with  my  mother,,'  said  Rosabel. 

'  Your  what  ?' 

'  My  mother.' 

'  Oh  yes,  of  course.  Married  beneath  her,  didn't 
she  ?  Didn't  know  she  was  up  to  this  sort  of  thing, 
though.  Are  you  staying  here  ?' 

*  We    came    down    on    a    motor    with    friends 
this    morning,    and    we     are    going    to    stay    till 
Monday.' 

'  Where  do  you  live  when  you  are  at  home  ?' 

8—2 


u6  ROSABEL 

'  In  Great  Cumberland  Place,'  replied  Rosabel 
reluctantly. 

Once  more  he  gave  a  little  laugh — of  mingled 
amusement  and  surprise.  The  idea  of  it  all  was 
evidently  strange  to  him.  He  could  not  realize 
Rosabel  in  her  new  surroundings. 

'  Well,  I  congratulate  you,'  he  said.  '  I  am  glad 
to  have  come  across  you  again,  Rosabel.  What  is 
your  number  in  Great  Cumberland  Place  ?  May  I 
call?' 

'  I  don't  know  whether  mother  would  like  it.' 

'  She  won't  mind.' 

'  I  don't  know  whether  /  should  like  it,'  said  the 
girl,  darkening. 

*  That's  pretty  cool,  'pon  my  word  !  You  are 
your  old  self,  Rosabel !' 

'  I  don't  change  in  three  weeks — nor  in  three  years.' 

'  Then  you  oughtn't  to  want  to  cast  off  your  old 
friends !' 

'  But  we  were  never  friends — what  I  call  friends,' 
she  said.  *  You  know  we  weren't !' 

Her  eyes  challenged  his  angrily.  He  was  not 
abashed,  although  he  remembered  well  enough,  no 
doubt.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  could  not  perceive 
that  he  had  ever  given  her  cause  for  offence.  It 
was  his  experience  that  most  girls  like  to  be  kissed 
by  a  good-looking  man — girls  in  a  better  position 
than  hers,  too.  She  was  a  little  fool,  with  no  fun 
in  her.  She  wanted  stirring  up. 


ROSABEL  117 

He  looked  at  her  long  lashes,  the  perfect  curve  of 
her  cheeks,  and  the  tendrils  of  hair  which  escaped 
from  the  generous  mass  she  had  to  caress  her  brow 
and  the  nape  of  her  neck.  There  was  an  untouched 
bloom  about  her  which  had  always  attracted  him 
in  spite  of  her  heaviness.  And  now  she  was  well 
dressed  and  her  figure  improved.  She  reminded  him 
of  a  ripe  peach,  young  and  round,  luscious  and 
sweet.  He  would  like  to  do  the  '  stirring  up ' 
himself. 

**  I  never  saw  such  an  improvement  in  anybody,' 
he  added >  with  the  coolness  of  a  connoisseur  ap- 
praising a  work  of  art.  '  I  scarcely  recognised  you. 
Clothes  make  a  lot  of  difference,  of  course.  And 
you've  learned  how  to  do  your  hair.' 

Braithwaite  always  noticed  things  about  women 
which  would  have  escaped  another  sort  of  man. 

Rosabel  was  growing  angrier  every  moment. 

*  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  call  me  Rosabel,'  she 
said.     '  I  am  Miss  Fairbourne  now.' 

'  Why  Fairbourne  ?' 

'  It  is  my  mother's  name.  She  married  again. 
She  wishes  it.' 

*  Won't  you  introduce  me  ?'  he  asked. 

'  No,'  she  replied  decidedly.     '  Good-bye.' 

'  Oh,     I     shall     see     you    again    presently,'    he 

said  —  'perhaps    to-morrow.     I    am   staying  here, 

too.' 
Nevertheless,  he  took  her  unwilling  hand,  and 


n8  ROSABEL 

added  in  a  whisper  which  brought  the  blood  to  her 
face  : 

'  When  are  you  going  to  give  me  that  kiss, 
Rosabel  ?' 

'  Never  !  I  wonder  if  your  wife  knows  what  you 
are?' 

'She  thinks  she  does,  anyhow.'  He  laughed. 
'  She's  gone  home  to  her  people  in  America  for  a 
"  spell,"  '  he  said,  '  so  I  am  a  grass-widower.  Do 
you  know  her  ?' 

'  I've  seen  her — not  spoken  to  her,'  said  Rosabel. 

Again  her  brow  was  overcast ;  he  managed  to 
rake  up  everything  unpleasant.  County  ladies, 
even  if  born  in  the  land  of  equality  where  social 
distinctions  are  more  insisted  upon  than  they  are 
in  England,  do  not  '  know  '  the  waitresses  of  inns. 

*  Temper    like    pepper,'    observed    Braithwaite. 
'  She  can  stop  with  her  "  popper  "  and  "  mommer  " 
as  long  as  she  likes.' 

'  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  right,  when  you  quarrel, 
is  on  her  side,'  said  Rosabel  calmly.  '  You  must  be 
dreadful  to  live  with.' 

'  Rosabel !' 

It  was  Aylrner  who  called  her.  He  saw  her 
talking  to  someone,  and  as  she  turned  the  two  men 
exchanged  an  inquiring  glance. 

*  I  am  coming,'  said  Rosabel,  and  left  Braith- 
waite without  more  ado. 

*  Who's  that  fellow  ?'  Aylmer  asked  her. 


ROSABEL  119 

*  Ohj  he  lives  down  in  Bucks,  near  the  Angler's 
Inn.' 

Braithwaite  strolled  by  presently.  He  was 
curious,  no  doubt,  to  see  her  belongings. 

Rosabel  noticed  him  lounging  about,  but  refused 
to  catch  his  eye.  She  would  not  introduce  him. 
He  was  much  too  impudent.  It  was  a  relief  when 
he  disappeared  at  last. 

As  they  were  all  going  in  to  dinner  later  on,  how- 
ever, he  reappeared  with  a  friend,  and  contrived  to 
brush  against  Rosabel,  whispering  as  he  passed  : 

'  When,  Rosabel  ?' 

She  knew  what  he  meant  at  once,  and  crimsoned 
with  anger.  Looking  up,  her  eyes  met  Aylmer's. 

'  What  is  it  ?'  he  asked  in  an  undertone. 

'  Nothing,  thanks.' 

Braithwaite  was  '  nothing.'  She  could  afford  to 
disregard  him  now.  There  was  no  longer  a  utili- 
tarian aunt  in  the  background  to  insist  upon  her 
fetching  him  whisky-and-soda. 

The  next  day  she  was  careful  not  to  stray  away 
alone.  But  Braithwaite  was  not  so  easily  shaken 
off.  He  walked  boldly  up  to  her  as  she  was  stand- 
ing on  the  steps  with  her  mother,  and  wished  her 
good  -  morning.  He  was  trying  to  force  her 
hand. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  could  scarcely  let  the  incident 
pass. 

'  Who  is  your  friend,  Rosabel  ?'  she  asked, 


120 


ROSABEL 


*  Mr.    Maurice   Braithwaite — my   mother,'    mur- 
mured Rosabel  reluctantly. 

His  trick  had  only  half  succeeded.  He  remained 
conversing  with  them  for  a  few  minutes,  but  it  did 
not  suit  Mrs.  Fairbourne  to  invite  him  to  call  on 
them  ;  he  knew  too  much  about  Rosabel. 

After  lunch  they  went  for  a  country  spin  in  the 
motor,  and  in  the  evening  the  balmy  air  lured  them 
out  of  doors  again. 

They  strolled  along  two  and  two,  Mrs.  Fair- 
bourne,  as  a  matter  of  course,  annexing  Aylmer. 
After  a  little  she  grew  tired,  however,  never  caring 
to  walk  far,  and  they  returned  to  the  hotel. 

Rosabel  lingered  rather  wistfully.  Indoors  there 
were  many  lights,  many  people,  much  noise  ;  out- 
side there  was  the  night,  the  silver  sea,  the  stars. 

*  Are  you  loth  to  go  in,  Rosabel  ?  '   asked  Aylmer. 
•  Would  you  like  another  turn  ?' 

'  Yes,  I  should.' 

Bellamy  looked  sorry  that  he  had  not  spoken 
first ;  Mrs.  Fairbourne  looked  annoyed.  She 
wanted  Aylmer  beside  her  in  the  crowded  lounge, 
where  all  the  smart  people  were  staring  and  prying 
and  picking  to  pieces  each  other's  features  and 
characters  and  gowns. 

'  I  am  sure  you  have  had  as  much  exercise  as  is 
good  for  you,  Rosabel,'  she  said  irritably.  *  You 
have  been  out  all  day,  and  it  is  late.' 

'  We  haven't  had  much  walking,  mother.' 


ROSABEL  121 

'  Mr.  Aylmer  is  too  kind  to  you.' 

'  Oh,  not  at  all,'  he  said,  in  his  pleasant  voice. 
'  Come,  Rosabel.' 

They  passed  on. 

'  You  are  sure  you  don't  mind  ?'  queried  Rosabel 
presently. 

'  Positive.  In  fact,  I  did  not  wish  to  go  indoors. 
The  night  is  better  company  than  that  gaudy 
parrot-house.  May  I  smoke  ?'  He  took  out  a 
cigarette.  '  Look  at  the  shining  track  that  lugger 
is  leaving  behind  her.' 

'  Lovely,'  said  the  girl,  breathing  deep,  '  but  sad. 
A  night  like  this  always  makes — makes  me  hungry.' 

'  Hungry  ?'  he  queried. 

'  Yes,  you  know — for  the  things  I  shall  never 
have.' 

They  had  stopped  by  the  railing  at  the  edge  of 
the  cliff.  Their  figures  were  no  more  than  silhouettes 
against  the  sea. 

Aylmer  puffed  at  his  cigarette  in  silence  for  a 
moment. 

'  You'll  get  everything  by-and-by,  Rosabel,'  he 
said  gently. 

'  How  can  I  ?'  she  asked. 

'  Yes,  you  will.  You  are  young.  You'll  get 
love  ;  that's  everything — to  a  woman.' 

*  Love,'  she  repeated  in  a  whisper — '  love  !' 

The  word  had  stricken  her.  She  was  in  a  softened 
mood,  relaxed  for  once.  It  may  have  been  only 


122  ROSABEL 

the  night  and  the  stillness  and  the  white  light  on 
the  water. 

Aylmer's  voice,  attuned  to  the  occasion,  was 
scarcely  a  disturbance. 

'  What  will  he  be  like,  Rosabel  ?' 

*  I've    never    thought    about    it.'     She    glanced 
defiance  at  him  suddenly — the  defiance  of  a  thing 
at  bay.     '  I  am  not  sentimental,  you  know  !' 

'  Aren't  you  ?     Are  you  sure  ?' 

'  I've  always  been  practical.     I've  had  to  be.' 

*  And  yet  a  beautiful  night  makes  you  hungry  ! 
You  are  a  bit  of  a  humbug,  my  child.' 

'  I'm  not,  indeed  !' 

'  You  don't  know  yourself,'  he  said.  '  Wait.  No 
life  was  ever  all  tragedy.  You'll  have  your  moments, 
if  not  your  years.  Perhaps  you  are  going  to  be  very 
happy  by-and-by,  in  spite  of  your  pessimism — so 
happy  that  you'll  even  be  able  to  forgive  your 
mother.' 

'  No,'  she  insisted.  '  I  am  sure  I  shall  never  know 
what  it  means.' 

'  Love,'  he  said  again  softly,  '  love  —  love, 
Rosabel !' 

A  whiff  of  his  fragrant  tobacco  reached  her  nostrils, 
which  dilated.  She  stared  blindly  at  the  sea.  The 
obstinacy  of  her  rejoinder  seemed  directed  as  much 
against  herself  as  him. 

'  Nobody  I  could  care  for  would  ever  care  for  me,' 
she  said.  *  It  just  amounts  to  that.  Who  am  I  ?' 


ROSABEL  123 

'  A  very  nice  little  girl  when  you  like,'  he  said, 
and  now  his  tone  was  kindly  and  sensible,  nothing 
more — the  touch  of  sentiment  had  gone.  *  Don't 
shut  yourself  up  in  yourself  too  much,  that  is  all. 
Give  people  a  glimpse  of  your  soul  sometimes.  You 
draw  the  curtains  so  close  that  one  might  make  the 
mistake  of  thinking  there  was  nothing  behind.' 

Her  silent  communion  lasted  a  long  time. 

'  I  wonder  at  your  thinking  like  that,'  she  broke 
out  at  last.  '  About  love,  I  mean.' 

'  Why  not  I  ?' 

*  Usually  you  talk  as  though  there  were  nothing 
serious.' 

He  laughed  low  and  lightly. 

'  Oh,  one  talks,  Rosabel !  You  mustn't  believe 
everything  you  hear.' 

She  turned  dark  eyes  on  him. 

'  I  disliked  you  at  first,  you  know.' 

'  But  you  don't  now  ?' 

'  No.     Have  you  ever  been  in  love  ?'  she  asked. 

'  What  a  question  !     What  a  child  you  are  !' 

'  But  you  must  know,'  she  persisted. 

'  Perhaps  I  have  fancied  so  once  or  twice.' 

'  I  suppose,  as  you  say,  that  women  think  more 
about  it  than  men,'  she  said,  musing.  *  I  don't.' 
She  stirred,  and  he  seemed  to  know  without  seeing 
that  she  was  frowning.  'I've  other  things.' 

'  But  you  don't  mean  to  stay  with  your  mother 
always  ?' 


i24  ROSABEL 

'  No  !  When  I  am  twenty-one  I  can  do  as  I  like. 
I'm  just  waiting  till  then.' 

*  That  is  your  plan,  is  it  ?' 

He  threw  the  end  of  the  cigarette  away,  and  it 
sank  through  the  darkness  like  a  falling  star. 

'  If  she  doesn't  want  to  give  me  any  money,  she 
needn't,'  said  Rosabel.  '  I  can  always  keep  myself. 
My  aunt  would  take  me  back.' 

*  To  the  Angler's  Inn  ?     I  thought  you  hated  it 
so  much  ?' 

*  So  I  did,  so  I  do  !'  cried  the  girl  passionately. 
'  But  there's  nothing  I  wouldn't  do  to  get  away  from 
her  r 

*  You  are  young  to  be   so  malicious.     Wrong, 
Rosabel ;  you're  wrong.' 

'  But  why  should  I  stay  ?  How  can  I  care  for 
her  ?  If  I  died  to-morrow  she'd  be  glad  !' 

'  You  mustn't  say  that !' 

'  She  would !  You  know  she  would !  Then  I 
couldn't  disgrace  her  any  more.' 

He  was  distracted  by  the  attempt  to  reconcile 
sympathy  for  the  girl  with  loyalty  to  the  mother. 
It  seemed  rather  mean  to  leave  Amy  in  the  lurch, 
yet  Rosabel  was  a  force.  It  astonished  him,  when 
he  came  to  think  of  it,  how  much  arrestive  power 
she  had  without  eloquence  to  justify  it.  She  was 
like  a  sledge-hammer  striking  sparks  from  hot  metal, 
a  glimpse  of  volcanic  fire,  the  muttering  approach 
of  a  tropical  storm. 


ROSABEL  125 

He  found  strange  similes  for  her,  standing  by  her 
side  on  the  prosaic  asphalt.  But  the  glamour  of 
night  was  there — night  which  creates  a  mystery  in 
the  half  revealed  ;  and  she  was  a  woman  at  this 
moment,  not  merely  Rosabel,  and  he  was  a 
man. 

'  At  thirty,'  he  said,  '  you  will  laugh  at  the 
tragedy  you  made  of  life  at  nineteen.  Everything 
is  either  black  or  white  for  you,  there  are  no  grays. 
You  exaggerate  your  mother's  feelings  absurdly. 
Of  course,  she  does  not  want  you  to  die.  She  would 
be  shocked  if  she  knew  you  thought  so,  I  am  sure. 
And  the  idea  of  going  back  to  your  aunt  is  equally 
preposterous.  The  true  solution  of  your  problem  is 
marriage.' 

She  remained  silently  antagonistic. 

'  Yes,  marriage,'  he  repeated  firmly.  Then  he 
laughed.  '  Why  don't  you  marry  my  cousin  ?  He 
is  a  good  fellow,  sufficiently  well  off,  and  I  know  he 
is  more  than  half  in  love  with  you  already.' 

*  No,  thank  you,'  said  Rosabel. 

'  He  won't  do  ?' 

'  I  couldn't,'  she  said. 

'  That  settles  George  !'     He  was  amused. 

'  Have  you  ever  talked  about  him  with  mother  ?' 
she  inquired. 

'  I  believe  I  did  so  once.' 

'  She  needn't  get  any  ideas  of  that  kind  into 
her  head,'  said  Rosabel  fiercely.  '  I'm  not  going 


126  ROSABEL 

to  be  married  off  to  anyone  just  to  please  her.    You 
can  tell  her  so  !' 

'  Quite  unnecessary.  A  decision  of  that  kind 
must  always  rest  with  you.  I  am  sure,'  he  added, 
'  she  would  never  attempt  to  influence  you.  Her 
ideas  are  too  refined.' 

*  Of  course,  you  like  her  very  much,'  said  Rosabel. 
'  You  won't  admit  that  she  isn't  perfect.' 

There  was  a  silence  of  thirty  seconds.  Strolling 
figures  passed  behind  them  with  the  murmur  of 
voices. 

Aylmer  laid  his  hand  on  the  girl's  arm. 

*  Don't  be  cross,  Rosabel.     I  thought  we  were 
friends  ?' 

*  Oh,  she  is  your  friend  !' 

'  Can't  I  have  two  friends  ?' 

'  I  don't  know.     I've  never  had  more  than  one.' 

'  Don't  you  count  me  ?' 

'  It's  best  not  to  have  anybody,'  said  Rosabel. 
1  Then  you've  got  nothing  to  lose.' 

She  folded  her  arms  as  though  she  were  defending 
herself  from  all  the  world,  and  leaned  on  the  rail. 
Aylmer  lighted  another  cigarette. 

'  You're  morbid,'  he  said,  '  and  I  am  tired  of  you  ! 
Let  us  go  home.' 

The  noise  and  atmosphere  of  the  *  parrot-house ' 
jarred  upon  Rosabel's  mood  when  they  entered. 
She  said  good-night  to  her  mother  and  the  men 
abruptly,  and  went  to  bed.  To  her  room,  at  least. 


ROSABEL  127 

The  girl  did  not  undress.  She  pulled  up  the  blind 
and  opened  the  window  wide,  and  drew  a  chair  to  it. 

She  was  restless  to-night,  and  the  sea  was  sympa- 
thetic. It  was  quivering,  quivering  all  the  time. 
Myriads  of  silver  molecules  danced  in  it,  leaping 
up,  dying  down,  heaving,  seeking  something.  She, 
too,  was  seeking  something. 

Her  talk  with  Aylmer  had  made  a  deep  impression 
upon  her  mind,  she  did  not  know  why.  It  was  not 
that  he  had  persuaded  her  to  think  better  of  her 
mother  or  more  hopefully  about  the  future.  On 
the  contrary!  she  felt  sad  and  lonely,  and  her  heart 
ached. 

She  leaned  her  head  against  the  casement.  In 
a  dreamy  moment  she  fancied  that  she  was  still 
standing  beside  him,  with  the  scent  of  his  tobacco 
in  her  nostrils  and  the  sound  of  his  voice  in  her 
ear. 

'  Love,'  he  was  saying  softly,  '  love — love,, 
Rosabel !' 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MRS.  FAIRBOURNE  had  already  put  her  affairs  in 
order.  Aylmer's  twelve  hundred  was  awaiting 
her  pleasure  at  the  bank,  and  next  year  she  would 
enjoy  her  whole  enlarged  income  free  from  debt. 
Meanwhile  there  was  a  little  surplus,  and  she  planned 
an  extensive  redecoration  of  the  Great  Cumberland 
Place  box  during  her  absence  from  London.  She 
could  afford  the  best  of  everything  at  last,  thank 
God,  and  she  was  fond  of  her  home. 

Aylmer  called  one  morning  at  twelve  to  find 
her  surrounded  by  wall-papers  and  chintz — the 
Folkestone  trip  was  already  a  couple  of  weeks  old. 

'  How  do  you  like  this  for  my  bedroom  ?'  she 
asked  him. 

'  It  will  look  charming,  I  am  sure.' 

'  And  this  for  Rosabel  ?' 

'  Also  charming.     Did  she  choose  it,  or  did  you  ?' 

'Oh,  I  did.'     She  laughed.     'But  she  likes  it. 
She's  not  pig-headed  in  matters  of  taste,   I  will 
admit.     She  always  allows  me  to  know  better.' 
t    '  Where   is   she  ?'   he   asked.     '  I   have   brought 

128 


ROSABEL  129 

you  round  a  couple  of  tickets  for  the  Temple  flower- 
show.  I  thought  you  might  like  to  go.' 

'  I  should.  But  Rosabel  won't  be  home.  She 
has  gone  down  to  Buckinghamshire  to  see  her  aunt.' 

'  The  people  of  the  Angler's  Inn  ?' 

*  Yes.     I  don't  know  whether  I  ought  to  allow 
it.     I   meant   to   cut   that   connection   altogether. 
But  she  insisted,  and  it  wasn't  worth  a  fuss.     So 
I  let  her  go  alone.     I  didn't  care  to  send  Brace. 
Servants  are  such  snobs,  and  their  tongues  are  so 
long.' 

'  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  I  would  have  taken 
her.' 

'  You  ?'  She  looked  up  in  surprise  from  her 
wall-papers.  *  But  I  shouldn't  have  imposed  upon 
your  amiability.  You  are  altogether  too  good  about 
Rosabel.  Of  course,  I  appreciate  it.' 

*  I  like  the  girl,'  he  said. 

'  Do  you  really  ?  I  was  afraid  she  bored  you 
frightfully.' 

'  On  the  contrary,  she  interests  me.' 

'  I  wish  she  interested  me,'  sighed  Mrs.  Fair- 
bourne.  *  When  we  are  at  meals  we  sit  like  a  couple 
of  owls,  and  I  dream  dreams.' 

'  Why  don't  you  try  to  talk  to  her  for  a  change  ?' 

*  I  have  tried,  and  I  can't.     To  me  she  is  hermeti- 
cally sealed,  and  I  fail  to  extract  even  a  trickle  of 
conversation  from  her.     Sometimes   I   ask  myself 
whether  she  can  really  be  mine,  and  wonder  if  the 

9 


i3o  ROSABEL 

Collinses  are  passing  off  a  changeling  on  me.  At 
least,  I  should  wonder  if  she  weren't  so  like  William. 
Poor  child,  a  female  William  !  What  a  shocking 
thing  for  her  !' 

'  You  really  think  her  so  impossible  ?'  He 
asked  for  information. 

'  She  may  improve,  but  I  doubt  it.  She  is  of 
the  type  which  doesn't  want  to  learn,  you  see. 
She  is  quite  satisfied.  She  won't  be  told.' 

Aylmer  smiled. 

'  Perhaps  you  misjudge  her.' 

*  Why  ?'     Mrs.    Fairbourne    was    scornful.     '  Is 
she  so  deep  ?' 

*  She  isn't  as  shallow  as  you  suppose.' 

'  Then  you  have  made  a  study  of  her? ' 

'  I  study  everybody.' 

'  And  I  only  those  who  are  worth  it,'  she  retorted. 

'  Then  turn  your  attention  to  Rosabel,  I  pray 
you,  before  you  go  farther  from  home — where  even 
charity  should  begin.' 

She  ceased  fluttering  the  leaves  of  the  wall- 
paper book,  and  regarded  him  curiously. 

'  Do  you  mean  it  ?' 

'  I  do.  I  should  like  you  to  realize  that  your 
investigations  in  a  certain  quarter  would  repay 
you,  and  that  you  might  make  both  the  girl  and 
yourself  happier.' 

She  was  wrapt  in  silent  meditation  for  a  moment. 

'Oh,  she  is  happy  enough,'  she  said.     'She  is 


ROSABEL  131 

torpid,  you  know.  People  of  that  class,  William's 
class,  are  not  gifted — or  is  it  cursed  ? — with  keen 
sensations.  She  is  living  in  a  luxury  which  is  novel 
to  her,  and  no  doubt  her  heart  is  swelling  with 
gratified  pride,  and  she  has  gone  down  to  Bucking- 
hamshire to-day  to  play  the  little  pompous  snob 
in  her  new  clothes.  Men  make  a  mistake,  as  a 
rule,  in  attributing  any  but  the  simplest  motives 
and  emotions  to  girls.  But  it's  awfully  sweet  of 
you  to  take  an  interest  in  her.'  Her  fine  eyes 
looked  dewy,  and  she  extended  an  apparently 
impulsive  hand  to  him — she  who  was  never  im- 
pulsive in  these  days.  '  I  had  no  idea  how  sweet 
you  were  !' 

He  felt  rather  a  traitor  as  he  took  the  hand  ; 
nevertheless,  out  of  habit,  perhaps,  he  pressed  it 
slightly.  In  some  ways  she  was  a  delightful 
woman.  But  she  did  not  shine  as  a  mother.  It 
might  be  a  fact  that  maternal  feelings  could  not 
be  acquired  full  grown,  but  must  grow  with  the 
child.  She  might  be  as  charming  as  ever,  for 
instance,  with  a  baby.  Once  he  had  even  gone 
so  far  on  the  road  to  matrimony  as  to  contemplate 
her  like  that.  Was  it  Rosabel's  existence  which 
had  obliterated  the  picture  ?  A  nineteen-year-old 
girl — with  a  mind,  too  !  And  the  mother  must  be 
thirty-seven. 

He  had  not  said  it  to  himself  in  as  many  words, 
but  doubtlessly  the  notion  had  come  home  to  him 

9—2 


132  ROSABEL 

that,  as  a  step-father,  he  would  be  '  damned 
ridiculous.'  Besides,  why,  after  all  ? 

When  a  man  who  has  never  been  in  love  begins 
to  analyze  his  sentiments,  and  realize  how  gossamer- 
like  they  are,  the  woman's  chance  is  gone.  He 
was  thinking  of  '  settling  down,'  and  she  had 
seemed  desirable.  And  now,  for  various  reasons, 
she  no  longer  seemed  desirable. 

But  self-engrossed  and  self-satisfied,  she  did 
not  dream  of  it,  and  thanked  him  sincerely  for  his 
kindness  to  her  daughter.  He  had  admired  her, 
and  her  vanity  could  not  imagine  a  serious  defection 
on  his  part.  She  was  rather  annoyed  that  he  should 
think  she  was  not  treating  Rosabel  properly,  but 
she  attributed  his  '  interest '  solely  to  the  fact 
that  the  girl  was  hers,  and  that  he  wished  them 
to  make  the  best  of  things. 

A  little  officious  of  him,  perhaps,  but  '  sweet.' 
She  repeated  the  adjective  to  herself,  and  the  irri- 
tation passed.  How  much  better  that  he  should 
like  Rosabel  than  regard  her  as  an  obstacle  ! 

'  As  Rosabel  will  not  be  at  home,  you  might 
accompany  me  to  the  flower-show  this  afternoon,' 
she  said. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ROSABEL'S  visit  to  the  country  improved  her  frame 
of  mind.  The  contrast  between  past  and  present 
could  not  fail  to  strike  her,  and  make  her  realize 
that  it  was  pleasant,  after  all,  to  live  like  a  lady, 
even  with  her  mother.  Mrs.  Collins  had  never 
looked  so  stout  and  red,  Mr.  Collins  had  never  looked 
so  smug  and  butler-like,  and  her  old  bedroom  had 
never  looked  so  plainly  furnished.  Even  the 
servants'  rooms  at  Great  Cumberland  Place  were 
better.  And  as  she  had  not  been  expected,  onions 
were  being  cooked  for  dinner,  and  the  smell  of  them 
pervaded  the  inn,  even  submerging  the  usual 
odour  of  beer. 

But  the  old  setter  nearly  went  out  of  his  mind 
with  joy  at  seeing  her,  and  the  servants  made 
excuses  to  come  into  the  parlour  on  errands  to  have 
a  peep  at  '  Miss  Rosabel,'  and  her  aunt  said  :  '  My  ! 
all  silk  underneath,  and  that  hat  with  those  feathers 
couldn't  have  cost  a  penny  less  than  three  pounds  !' 
This  was  soothing,  undoubtedly.  There  was  some- 
thing romantic,  too,  in  being  able  to  preserve  an 

'33 


134  ROSABEL 

unmoved  demeanour  in  the  face  of  the  sensation 
she  was  creating,  and  to  feel  gloomy  through  all. 

She  had  brought  presents,  and  took  away  the 
good  wishes  of  all,  and  a  pressing  invitation  to 
come  again. 

It  was  already  time  to  dress  for  dinner  when 
she  reached  home,  and  it  was  typical  of  the  terms 
she  was  on  with  her  mother  that  she  went  straight 
to  her  room  instead  of  reporting  her  return.  So 
they  did  not  meet  till  they  met  at  the  dinner-table, 
and  then  Mrs.  Fairbourne  dismissed  her  daughter's 
doings  with  a  mere  question  : 

'  Did  you  have  a  pleasant  day,  Rosabel  ?' 

'  Yes,  thank  you.' 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  sipped  her  hock.  The  golden 
sparkle  of  the  wine  was  like  the  woman  herself. 
Rosabel  had  often  thought  so  as  she  sat  at  the 
table  silent,  thinking,  it  was  supposed,  about 
nothing  at  all. 

'  Mr.  Aylmer  took  me  to  a  flower-show,  so  I  had 
a  pleasant  day,  too.' 

'  Did  you  ?'  said  Rosabel. 

Her  satisfaction  in  her  own  performance  was 
blighted.  The  gloom  of  her  habitual  mood  held 
her  in  thrall  again. 

'  He  mentioned,'  continued  Mrs.  Fairbourne, 
*  that  his  cousin  was  going  to  Scotland  to-morrow. 
Did  you  know  ?' 

'  No,'  said  Rosabel. 


ROSABEL  135 

'  I  was  surprised  to  hear  it.'  Mrs.  Fairbourne 
fixed  her  daughter's  eyes  across  the  table.  '  I 
thought  he  had  a  particular  reason  for  wishing  to 
remain  in  London  for  the  present.' 

Rosabel  did  not  respond  ;  she  felt  herself  growing 
red.  She  understood  the  innuendo,  and  it  occurred 
to  her  suspicious  nature  instantly  that  Aylmer  had 
been  discussing  her  with  her  mother  while  they 
were  out  together.  Why  should  she  trust  him  ? 
He  was  nice  when  he  was  with  her,  especially  when 
they  were  alone,  but,  of  course,  he  had  known  her 
mother  much  longer  than  herself.  The  idea  that 
he  might  have  passed  on  some  of  her  confidences 
made  her  feel  sick. 

'  Are  you  sure  you  don't  know  why  he  has  gone, 
Rosabel  ?' 

'  How  should  I  ?  Why  should  he  tell  me  ?' 
asked  the  girl  resentfully. 

'  He  did  not  say  anything  to  you  during  the 
trip  to  Folkestone  ?' 

'  Anything  about  what  ?' 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

'  If  you  don't  know  what  I  mean  you  are  a 
fool.  Even  the  kitchen-maid  understands  when 
the  milkman  admires  her.  That  man  was  prepared 
to  marry  you  if  you  had  given  him  a  little  encourage- 
ment. I  am  afraid  you  have  been  silent  and  dis- 
agreeable, and  thrown  a  chance  away.' 

*  I  don't  want  to  marry  him,'  said  Rosabel. 


136  ROSABEL 

'  But  I  suppose  you  don't  want  to  be  an  old  maid  ? 
It  is  useless  to  be  too  particular,  Rosabel.  I  cannot 
introduce  you  to  many  eligible  men.' 

Rosabel's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  table-cloth. 

'  He  was  well  off,'  pursued  her  mother,  as  though 
she  had  answered.  '  Mr.  Aylmer  mentioned  fifteen 
hundred  a  year.  And  on  the  death  of  his  father 
he  will  come  into  a  considerable  fortune.  You 
are  very  foolish.  But  it  may  not  be  too  late.  I 
have  reason  to  believe  that  he  liked  you  very 
much.  Perhaps  you  do  not  realize  what  a  repellent 
manner  you  have  ?  A  stranger  would  think  that 
you  were  always  sulky  about  something.  You 
must  cultivate  a  more  pleasing  expression,  my  dear 
child,  or  few  men  will  look  at  you  twice.' 

'  Then  they  can  look  another  way,'  muttered 
Rosabel. 

'  Please  don't  be  impertinent,'  said  Mrs.  Fair- 
bourne  severely. 

The  conversation  lapsed  as  Benson  returned. 

Rosabel  helped  herself  blindly  to  the  dish  proffered 
her. 

Had  her  mother's  complaint  originated  in  her 
own  head  ?  She  meant  to  ask  when  Benson  was 
gone  again,  but  Mrs.  Fairbourne  spoke  first.  She 
might  have  guessed  what  the  girl  wanted  to  knoWj 
although  her  remark  was  only  an  after-thought, 
designed  to  impress. 

1 1  am  not  the  only  person  who  thinks  you  are 


ROSABEL  137 

making  the  worst  instead  of  the  best  of  yourself,' 
she  added. 

'  Do  you  mean  Mr.  Aylmer  ?'  inquired  Rosabel. 

'  Yes.  We  were  talking  about  you  this  after- 
noon. He  is  kind  enough  to  take  an  interest  in 
you  on  my  account,  and  he  thinks  that  it  is  a  pity 
you  don't  try  to  be  more  attractive.' 

Rosabel's  cheeks  burned  like  hot  coals.  Then 
he  was  a  traitor  ;  he  had  discussed  her  with  the 
enemy  !  She  hated  him  at  this  moment.  He  had 
become  once  more  the  stranger  who  had  smiled 
with  her  mother  over  her  awkwardness  on  her 
first  night  at  Great  Cumberland  Place. 

As  it  happened,  several  days  passed  before  she 
saw  him  again.  Aylmer  was  kept  very  busy 
doing  nothing,  like  most  idle,  pleasant  men  of 
means. 

When  they  did  meet  at  last  Mrs.  Fairbourne 
and  Rosabel  were  driving  in  the  Park,  and  the  sight 
of  him  brought  the  victoria  to  a  standstill  at  the 
rails. 

'  Where  have  you  been  ?'  asked  Mrs.  Fairbourne, 
with  gentle  reproach. 

'  I  am  so  sorry  ;  engagements.  You  will  soon 
have  every  opportunity  of  getting  tired  of  me.' 

His  reply  would  have  sounded  pointed  to  an 
outsider  ;  unfortunately,  she  knew  what  he  meant 
only  too  well.  They  were  due  at  the  same  country 
house  next  week. 


138  ROSABEL 

*  Oh,  you  are  fishing,'  she  said.     '  Such  modesty 
is  unnatural !' 

They  chatted  for  a  few  minutes{  and  Mrs.  Fair- 
bourne  invited  him  to  drive  with  them.  Rosabel 
told  herself  that  she  hoped  he  would  decline,  and 
yet  when  he  did  so  she  was  disappointed.  He  had 
not  spoken  to  her  all  this  time,  and  she  had  not 
spoken  to  him.  If  he  did  address  her  she  did  not 
mean  to  be  agreeable.  He  should  find  that  she 
did  not  think  enough  of  his  opinion  to  take  it  to 
heart. 

*  Well,    Rosabel,'    he    said    suddenly,    '  are    you 
beginning  to  long  for  the  country  ?     I  am.     The 
London    trees    are   getting    brown    with    dust.     I 
annex  your  company  for  a  walk  every  fine  morning  ! 
I  am  sure  you  and  I  will  be  the  only  people  down 
to  breakfast  at  eight.    Take  note  of  it !' 

*  I   haven't   many   engagements,'    said   Rosabel, 
'  so  I  am  not  likely  to  forget.' 

*  If  you  do,'  he  said,  *  I  shall  come  and  hammer 
at  your  door.' 

Rosabel's  anger  vanished  like  mist  in  the  sun. 
Perhaps  he  had  not  criticised  her  unkindly,  after 
all !  He  had  told  her  himself  that  she  was  too 
silent  and  reserved  to  please  people.  He  need 
not  have  repeated  it  to  her  mother,  certainly,  but 
she  could  not  help  forgiving  him.  It  was  so  evident 
that  he  had  not  the  least  suspicion  of  having  hurt 
her  in  any  way. 


CHAPTER  XV 

FROM  that  moment  Rosabel  began  to  look  forward 
to  this  visit  to  the  country.  The  prospect  of 
staying  at  a  strange  house  with  a  party  of  people 
who  did  not  want  her  had  seemed  likely  to  be 
far  more  of  an  ordeal  than  a  pleasure,  and  she 
had  dreaded  it.  But  it  would  make  a  great  dif- 
ference if  Aylmer  took  notice  of  her.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  she  would  enjoy  herself. 

A  rare  light  illumined  the  girl's  eyes,  and  her  lips 
relaxed.  She  had  a  beautiful  mouth  when  she 
allowed  it  to  retain  its  natural  lines — full,  soft, 
sensitive,  and  her  face  could  be  wholly  sweet  and 
lovable. 

She  was  picturing  what  it  would  be  like  to  ramble 
through  the  fields  and  lanes  with  Alec  Aylmer. 
They  would  be  alone,  and  in  the  early  morning, 
when  the  air  was  fresh  and  the  dew  still  sparkling 
on  the  grass.  Already  she  could  smell  the  newly- 
turned  earth,  and  hear  the  larks,  and  feel  the 
spring  of  turf  under  her  feet.  The  country  was 

139 


I4o  ROSABEL 

best  after  all.  He  had  spoken  as  though  he  liked 
it  too.  She  was  glad  of  that,  and  glad  that 
he  should  know,  without  asking*  that  she  shared 
his  taste.  It  renewed  the  old  sympathy  between 
them,  and  made  her  feel  at  home  with  him.  If 
only  her  mother  were  not  coming  to  make  her 
miserable  again  with  ridicule  and  contempt,  and 
to  remind  him  to  be  cynical !  When  they  were 
alone  he  was  so  different. 

Her  musings  culminated  in  a  warm  thrill,  an 
odd  fluttering  of  the  heart.  It  had  come  suddenly— 
the  realization  that  she  loved  him.  A  great  shame 
overwhelmed  her.  It  was  happiness  as  well  for 
the  moment  in  which  she  saw  life  as  it  might  be 
and  had  never  been  for  her. 

'  You  will  get  love,  and  love  is  everything — to  a 
woman.' 

Then  she  had  felt  no  more  than  a  dim  aching 
born  of  loneliness  and  the  savage  self-depreciation 
which  was  for  ever  telling  her  that  she  must  always 
be  different  from  other  girls.  Now  the  longing  was 
definite  ;  but  even  as  she  recognised  it  the  rapture 
passed,  and  her  heart  sank  and  sank,  and  hope 
drained  away  like  the  sand  in  a  glass.  It  was  stupid 
of  her  to  care.  Of  course,  he  would  never.  .  .  . 

Henceforward  she  blushed  at  the  mention  of 
his  name,  and  feared  that  he  would  guess  her 
secret  if  she  looked  at  him.  A  glance  from  her 
mother  was  like  an  accusation.  Nobody  must  know. 


ROSABEL  141 

This  secret  she  would  share  with  none — Aylmer 
least  of  all. 

'  You  are  not  offended  about  anything,  are  you  ?' 
he  asked  her  one  day. 

'  No,'  she  said. 

'  Sure  ?' 

She  nodded,  trying  to  smile,  and  feeling  more 
inclined  to  cry. 

Still,  he  was  kind  to  her,  and  it  was  possible 
that  even  she  dreamed  dreams.  But  she  only 
regarded  them  as  dreams.  They  were  as  distinct 
from  life,  in  Rosabel's  estimation,  as  the  penny 
stories  she  used  to  read.  She  passed  the  time, 
that  was  all,  and  when  she  saw  or  heard  anything 
that  moved  her,  the  hunger  came  which  she  had 
mentioned  to  Aylmer  in  that  burst  of  confidence 
in  the  moonlight  by  the  sea. 

So  Rosabel  began  to  count  the  days,  and  Mrs. 
Fairbourne  began  to  count  the  days,  each  brooding 
apart.  The  woman  thought  only  of  herself  and 
her  own  plans  ;  the  girl  looked  upon  her  as  the 
worst  enemy  of  her  life.  They  did  not  draw 
together  ;  no  real  intimacy  resulted  from  their 
intercourse.  Mrs.  Fairbourne's  air  was  always  of 
well-bred  tolerance  when  it  was  not  faintly  con- 
temptuous ;  Rosabel  did  not  even  try  to  be  com- 
panionable. Neither  of  them  ever  forgot  for  a 
moment  that  the  bond  between  them  was  that  of 
compulsion  alone. 


x42  ROSABEL 

They  might  have  gone  on  indefinitely  in  this 
way  if  something  in  the  nature  of  a  thunder-bolt 
had  not  startled  Mrs.  Fairbourne  into  realizing  the 
precariousness  of  all  things  human,  particularly  a 
man's  fancy. 

It  was  the  eve  of  their  departure  from  London, 
and  she  and  Aylmer  were  alone  in  the  drawing- 
room. 

'  I  am  glad  we  are  going  to-morrow,'  he  said. 
*  Rosabel  wants  a  change.  She  isn't  used  to  London. 
The  girl  begins  to  look  fine-drawn.' 

'  Rosabel !'  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fairbourne.  *  Why, 
she  has  the  shoulders  of  a  dragoon  and  the  appetite 
of  a  navvy !' 

He  found  her  coarse  for  once,  and  showed  dis- 
pleasure. 

'  She  may  be  a  strong  and  healthy  girl,'  he  said  ; 
'  all  the  better.  One  naturally  longs  to  see  her 
keep  her  health  and  develop  into  a  splendid  woman 
— as  she  would  do  with  wholesome  surroundings 
and  happiness.' 

His  voice  dwelt  upon  the  final  word  as  though 
calling  her  attention  to  it. 

*  A  splendid  animal,  you  mean,'  she  said. 

*  Not  at  all,'  he  replied,  with  the  deliberation  of 
a  man  who  utters  what  has  been  in  his  mind  for 
some  time.     *  I  begin  to  get  tired  of  the  attitude— 
the  pose,  shall  I  say  ? — of  the  set  we  live  in.     Isn't 
it  trivial  ?     Isn't  it  rather  unwholesome  ?     I  am 


ROSABEL  143 

certain  it  is  a  bore  !  We  judge  people's  value  in 
the  scheme  of  creation  solely  by  the  books  they 
write,  the  pictures  they  paint,  the  music  they  com- 
pose, their  successes  on  the  stage,  or  their  mere 
ability  to  criticise,  and — to  criticise  the  critics. 
As  though  nothing  else  mattered  !  Whereas  it  is 
everything  else  that  matters.  The  importance  of 
art  is  absurdly  overrated.  The  world  could  do 
without  jam,  but  it  couldn't  do  without  bread  and 
butter.' 

'  Man  cannot  live  by  bread  alone !'  she  retorted 
promptly. 

'  Granted.  Jam  is  pleasant — in  the  proper  pro- 
portion, but  a  surfeit  of  it  makes  one  sick,  and  leaves 
one  still  unsatisfied.' 

'  And  you  are — sick  ?'  she  queried. 

'  Precisely.  I  crave  for  the  bread — good,  whole- 
some farmhouse  bread,  and  milk,  and  fresh  air, 
and  nature  !' 

'  Oh,  you  renegade  !'  she  cried. 

'  Let  a  man  pass  his  life  in  ploughing  fields  rather 
than  in  splitting  hairs,  and  a  woman  take  more 
interest  in  her  children  than  in  the  higher  culture.' 

'  Have  you  fallen  a  prey  to  a  militant  parson,  or 
what  is  the  matter  with  you  to-day  ?'  she  asked. 
'  You  with  your  collection  of  antique  weapons, 
your  cabinets  of  old  china,  your  shelf  of  bibelots  ! 
I  shall  tell  everybody  !  Don't  imagine  that  I  shall 
spare  you.' 


144 


ROSABEL 


She  carried  off  the  chagrin  his  thrust  had  caused 
her  magnificently  ;  she  had  plenty  of  pluck — or 
the  mask  which  is  always  at  the  service  of  the 
woman  of  the  world. 

'  One  wastes  a  lot  of  money,'  he  said  reflectively. 
'  I  think  I  shall  sell  my  works  of  art,  and  with  the 
proceeds  found  a  mission  for  the  conversion  to 
nature  of  the  artists  and  critics  of  London.  As  for 
Rosabel,  I  should  like  to  see  her  the  mistress  of  a 
comfortable  country  house,  with  horses  to  ride,  and 
dogs  to  play  with,  and  children — yes,  children  to 
bring  up.  She  would  make  an  ideal  wife  and  mother.' 

'  Why,  may  I  ask  ?' 

*  Because  she  has  a  heart,'  he  said,   '  and  she 
hungers  for  what  she  has  never  had — something  to 
love.' 

'  You  seem  to  know  a  great  deal  about  Rosabel's 
feelings  !'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne.  '  More  than  I  do. 
When  has  she  been  talking  to  you  ?' 

*  We  have  had  a  few  opportunities,'  he  replied^ 
'  which  we  have  made  the  most  of.' 

*  So  I  perceive.' 

She  tried  to  answer  lightly,  but  the  effort  was 
an  act  of  heroism.  A  storm  was  upon  her,  and  she 
had  been  too  preoccupied  to  observe  how  the  clouds 
were  gathering. 

When  the  door  closed  behind  him  at  last,  and  she 
was  alone,  a  sound  broke  from  her  like  that  of  a  deep 
breath  long  withheld. 


ROSABEL  145 

{  Can  he  be  taking  a  fancy  to  Rosabel  ?'  she  asked 
herself.  '  Incredible  !' 

It  really  seemed  incredible  to  her,  with  her  con- 
tempt for  the  girl.  Nevertheless,  it  might  be,  and 
the  suspicion  rankled  in  her  mind. 

After  all,  men  were  much  alike.  The  best  of 
them  asked  for  nothing  more  than  flesh,  pink  and 
white  flesh,  and  plenty  of  it. 

Wounded  vanity  and  jealousy  made  her  heart 
burn.  She  loved  him,  and  he  was  looking  over  her 
shoulder  at  Rosabel !  She  had  been  so  sure  of  him^ 
and  his  eyes  were  wandering  ;  the  old  ideals  were 
being  dethroned.  He  was  becoming  restless, 
seeking  something  new.  His  attention  must  be 
reclaimed.  She  would  not  give  him  up.  The  mor- 
tification of  knowing  that  he  had  even  faltered  was 
bad  enough. 

And  for  Rosabel !  Rosabel,  the  girl  she  had 
scorned,  and  been  ashamed  of  acknowledging  as 
her  daughter  !  Rosabel,  brought  up  by  a  publican's 
wife  in  a  village  inn  ! 

Perhaps  he  was  merely  in  a  bad  temper  this  after- 
noon. No  man  with  any  pretence  to  civilization 
could  be  serious  in  comparing  her  unfavourably 
with  Rosabel.  His  mood  would  pass,  no  doubt, 
assisted  by  a  little  tact  on  her  part.  If  she  could 
only  get  the  girl  safely  married  to  somebody — any- 
body else  without  loss  of  time  !  George  Bellamy 
must  be  given  another  chance. 

10 


146  ROSABEL 

'  I'll  take  a  country  house  for  a  month,  and  ask 
him  down,'  she  determined.  '  There  is  nothing  like 
a  country  house.' 

Meanwhile,  she  made  her  first  move — after 
dinner,  when  she  was  quite  cool,  and  no  longer 
afraid  that  temper  would  betray  her. 

*  Do  you  like  Mr.  Aylmer,  Rosabel  ?' 

'  Yes,  I  like  him.' 

'  You  have  talked  to  him  a  great  deal,  haven't 
you  ?  You  seem  to  have  been  more  confidential 
with  him  than  you  have  been  with  me !  I  thought 
you  had  nothing  to  say  for  yourself,  but  that  seems 
to  be  a  mistake ;  you  can  talk  when  you  consider  it 
worth  while !  Probably  you  find  men  better  com- 
pany than  women  ?' 

'  No,'  said  Rosabel  brusquely.  '  Some  people  are 
nice,  and  some  people  aren't.  I  don't  see  that  sex 
makes  any  difference.' 

'  But  it  is  natural  that  you  should  feel  flattered 
by  the  notice  of  a  man  of  the  world.  I  am  very 
pleased  that  he  takes  the  trouble  to  draw  you  out. 
I  was  thanking  him  this  afternoon  for  being  so  kind 
to  you/ 

Rosabel  looked  down. 

'  What  I  want  to  say  to  you,'  pursued  her  mother, 
'  is  that  you  must  not  allow  his  attention  to  make 
you  vain.  I  know  how  easily  girls  deceive  them- 
selves, and  you,  in  particular,  have  had  so  little 
experience  of  the  right  sort.  You  must  not  forget 


ROSABEL  147 

that  he  is  a  great  deal  older  than  you,  and  regards 
you  as  a  child,  as  my  daughter.' 

The  girl's  brows  lowered. 

'  Of  course,'  added  Mrs.  Fairbourne,  with  em- 
phasis, *  he  is  my  very  best  friend.  It  is  natural 
that  he  should  take  the  deepest  interest  in  you.  I 
was  acting  upon  his  advice,  indeed,  when  I  sent  for 
you.  He  thought  it  was  a  pity  that  we  should  not 
be  together.  His  disposition  is  not  poor  George's 
— so  absurdly  jealous.  He  is  always  reasonable. 
You  understand  ?' 

'  Yes,'  murmured  Rosabel. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  knew  when  to  leave  well  alone. 
She  had  said  enough  to  put  an  end  to  any  dan- 
gerous ideas  his  sympathy  might  have  aroused  in 
Rosabel's  head  without  giving  the  girl  anything  to 
repeat. 

In  a  few  minutes  Rosabel  got  up  silently  and  left 
the  room. 

'  Of  course,'  she  thought,  '  he  is  going  to  marry 
her  !  Why  didn't  I  suspect  it  before  ?' 

She  could  believe  now  that  she  had  been  foolishly 
dense,  and  that  she  ought  to  have  known  why  he 
came  to  Great  Cumberland  Place  so  much  oftener 
than  anyone  else.  Her  mother  was  still  a  young 
woman,  and  a  clever,  smart,  and  charming  woman. 
Nobody  could  be  readier  to  admit  that  than  Rosabel. 
She  remembered  that  they  had  been  together  the 
first  time  she  saw  them  ;  and,  looking  back,  she  could 

TO — 2 


148  ROSABEL 

recall  many  signs  of  a  mutual  attachment.  While 
she  had  been  priding  herself  upon  his  interest,  in 
fact,  he  had  been  merely  looking  kindly  upon  her 
mother's  daughter.  She  had  her  mother  to  thank 
for  the  reflected  honour  of  his  attention. 

Bitter  humiliation  and  grief  overwhelmed  her. 

'  I  know  how  easily  girls  deceive  themselves.' 

The  lightly-spoken  words  stung  her  to  the  quick. 
She  could  not  bear  to  think  of  them.  She  could 
scarcely  bear  to  go  on  living.  Perhaps  even  Aylmer 
was  laughing  at  her.  He  would  be  her  stepfather 
by-and-by,  but  a  kinder  stepfather  than  Mr.  Fair- 
bourne,  who  was  so  '  absurdly  jealous ' !  This  man's 
?  disposition  '  was  better  ;  he  would  not  begrudge 
her  a  share  of  her  mother's  roof. 

Yes,  it  was  fortunate  that  the  dreams  had  only 
been  dreams,  and  that  she  had  never  reckoned  on 
them. 

Nevertheless,  she  felt  desolate  and  wept  miserably, 
as  though  she  had  lost  something  which  she  could 
never  regain,  and  no  longer  anticipated  her  visit  to 
the  country  with  pleasure.  Of  course,  Alec  Aylmer 
had  been  asked  on  purpose  to  oblige  her  mother. 
Everybody  knew  what  she  had  been  too  stupid  to 
perceive.  In  future  she  would  have  to  regard  him 
in  quite  another  light — as  a  prospective  stepfather  ! 
That  was  too  much.  He  could  not  be  such  a  great 
deal  older  than  she  was  ;  he  looked  a  young  man. 
She  wondered,  a  little  maliciously,  if  his  age  were 


ROSABEL  149 

not  more  suited  to  her  own  than  to  her  mother'sj 
after  all. 

Aylmer  was  to  meet  them  at  the  station,  and  they 
were  to  travel  down  to  Hertfordshire  together.  If 
Rosabel  could  have  stayed  at  home  alone,  without 
any  questions  being  asked,  she  would  have  preferred 
it.  As  that  was  impossible,  she  was  ready  when  the 
brougham  came  round  in  the  morning  with  the 
station  basket  on  the  roof.  It  might  have  comforted 
her  if  she  had  known  what  pangs  of  anxiety  lay 
half  acknowledged  beneath  her  mother's  assumption 
of  high  spirits. 

Rosabel  barely  glanced  at  Aylmer  when  he  shook 
hands  with  her,  and  on  the  journey  she  sat  in 
the  farthest  corner,  and  looked  steadily  out  of 
the  window.  She  would  be  polite  if  he  spoke 
to  her,  but  she  would  never  allow  him  to  lure  her 
into  any  more  confidences.  He  ought  to  have 
warned  her.  She  must  have  offended  him  uncon- 
sciously several  times  with  her  remarks  about  her 
mother. 

In  the  course  of  the  journey  he  offered  her  the 
Sketch,  and  at  the  little  country  station,  where  Mrs. 
Harrowby  met  them,  he  seemed  to  remember  that 
she  might  be  feeling  neglected  while  the  women 
greeted  each  other  with  the  warmth  of  intimate 
friends. 

'  Do  you  like  old  country  houses,  Rosabel  ?  You 
are  going  to  see  a  perfect  gem  of  its  kind.  Mr. 


I5o  ROSABEL 

Harrowby  is  a  famous  painter,  and  wherever  you 
look  there  is  something  beautiful.' 

'  I  don't  know  much  about  works  of  art.' 

'  But  you  have  good  natural  taste  ;  I  have 
watched  you.' 

'  I  don't  see  how  you  can  think  so.  I  used  to 
dress  very  badly,'  she  said  antagonistically.  '  I 
hadn't  a  notion.  Mother  said  so,  and  she  was 
right.' 

'  You  learn  quickly.  It  is  all  a  matter  of  educa- 
tion.' 

'  Yes,  education.  And  I  haven't  any.  Knowing 
how  to  read  and  write  and  spell,  and  where  Siam  is 
on  the  map,  isn't  education  !' 

'  You  have  already  learned  something  when  you 
have  learned  that.  Some  people  go  through  their 
lives  without  knowing  it.' 

She  turned  her  face  away. 

'  I  ought  to  have  been  drowned  when  I  was  born, 
like  the  puppies  which  aren't  worth  keeping.' 

'  What  is  this,  Rosabel  ?' 

Rosabel  did  not  reply.  She  was  choking  with 
mingled  emotions,  in  which  that  of  a  persistent 
sense  of  inferiority  was  the  most  marked.  If  any- 
one had  addressed  her,  she  would  have  burst  into 
tears. 

May  Harrowby  was  speaking  as  they  all  got  into 
the  landau.  She  was  a  long-limbed  woman,  aesthe- 
tically attired,  whose  arched  mouth  and  large, 


ROSABEL  151 

mournful  eyes  were  frequently  reproduced  upon  her 
husband's  canvases. 

'  By  the  way,  Amy,  the  eighth  member  of  our 
party  is  an  acquaintance  of  yours,'  she  said.  '  I 
asked  him  at  the  last  moment  instead  of  Jack 
Stirling,  who  couldn't  come — Maurice  Braithwaite.' 

'  Braithwaite,'  repeated  Mrs.  Fairbourne  vaguely. 

'  Don't  you  remember  ?  A  big  fair  fellow,  a 
Philistine,  but  rather  good  fun.  County,  I  believe. 
A  friend  of  the  Gledhows.  He  has  a  place  called 
Hallowdene  somewhere  in  Bucks.' 

*  Yes,  of  course,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne.  '  Rosabel 
knows  him  better  than  I  do.' 

She  was  annoyed,  but  concealed  it.  Rosabel  was 
also  annoyed.  It  seemed  as  though  she  would 
never  shake  him  off. 

'  He  arrives  with  the  Gledhows  by  the  next  train,' 
added  Mrs.  Harrowby,  happily  unconscious  of  her 
error. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AYLMER  had  behaved  so  well  on  the  way  down  that 
Mrs.  Fairbourne  was  reassured.  Surely  she  was 
mistaken  after  all,  and  he  would  be  surprised  and 
amused  at  a  mere  suggestion  that  he  could  take 
Rosabel  seriously  ? 

Even  when  Harrowby  was  showing  them  the 
grounds,  and  Aylmer  waited  for  Rosabel,  the  act, 
as  he  performed  it,  seemed  one  of  mere  politeness. 
He  was  always  a  gentleman,  and  could  not  leave 
the  girl  to  follow  alone.  Perhaps  he  had  realized 
that  he  had  been  tactless  yesterday,  and  was  anxious 
to  atone.  She  did  not  mean  to  be  harsh  to  him. 
The  clever  woman  knows  when  to  overlook  a  fault 
and  hold  her  tongue. 

She  bloomed  joyously  in  the  sunshine.  If  Rosa- 
bel was  the  pink  rosebud,  she  was  the  white  rose— 
in  full  flower,  perhaps,  but  not  at  all  faded.  She 
felt  self-satisfied,  self-confident,  secure  once  more. 

Tea  was  brought  into  the  sitting-hall  when  they 
re-entered,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  other  guests 
arrived.  Again  Rosabel  found  herself  shaking  hands 

152 


ROSABEL  153 

with   Maurice  Braithwaite,  who  greeted  her  mis- 
chievously. 

*  The  fates  are  kind  to  me,'  he  said. 
Rosabel  scowled. 

'  You  are  everywhere,'  she  said. 

'  Do  say  you  are  glad  to  see  me  !' 

She  tossed  her  head,  and  he  dropped  into  a  chair 
beside  her,  as  Mrs.  Harrowby  handed  him  his  tea, 
and  whispered  low  : 

'  When,  Rosabel  ?' 

'  Never — never — never  !'  she  answered  in  the 
same  tone. 

'  Yes,  you  will.  It  must  be.  There's  luck  in  the 
third  meeting.  Don't  you  know  that  I  am  to  be 
your  fate  ?' 

He  only  spoke  in  jest,  to  get  a  '  rise,'  as  he  would 
have  called  it,  out  of  the  girl ;  but  she  stared  at  him 
with  sudden  uneasiness,  as  though  the  suggestion 
had  alarmed  her. 

*  You  are  so  fond  of  talking  nonsense,  Mr.  Braith- 
waite !     You,  a  married  man  !' 

'  Do  you  think  it  is  only  bachelors  who  can  be 
foolish  ?  I  may  get  a  divorce,  you  know.' 

'  I  don't  care  whether  you  do  or  not.  It  would 
be  fortunate,  I  think,  for  your  wife.' 

'  How  unkind  you  are  !  Don't  you  call  me  a  nice 
man  ?' 

'No,'  she  said  emphatically.  '  Horrid — perfectly 
horrid  !' 


154  ROSABEL 

*  That  isn't  your  real  opinion  !  You  are  afraid  of 
making  me  vain.' 

He  laughed  aloud  at  her  gaze  of  indignation,  and 
Mrs.  Fairbourne  glanced  across  at  them.  Braith- 
waite,  she  perceived,  was  drawn  to  the  girl.  It  was 
a  pity  that  he  was  married.  She  was  surprised  to 
find  that  Rosabel  was  attractive  to  men,  and  to  such 
various  men  as  Alec  Aylmer,  George  Bellamy,  and 
Maurice  Braithwaite.  What  could  they  see  in  her  ? 
Had  her  brusque  indifference,  almost  amounting  to 
rudeness,  the  fascination  of  sour  grapes  ? 

When  they  went  up  to  dress  for  dinner  she  called 
Rosabel  into  her  room. 

The  girl  came,  reluctant  as  usual,  and  waited  like 
a  child  summoned  by  the  schoolmistress  for  repri- 
mand. Her  mother  never  wanted  her,  she  was 
aware,  for  any  agreeable  reason. 

'  It  is  most  unfortunate,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne 
fretfully,  '  that  Mr.  Braithwaite  should  be  here.  I 
hope  he  will  have  the  tact  not  to  mention  par- 
ticulars of  your  acquaintance.  You  might  give 
him  a  hint.' 

'  I  don't  see  how  I  can  do  that,'  replied  Rosabel. 

'  Why  not  ?  You  are  friendly  enough  with 
him.' 

'  I  don't  mind  his  talking  about  it,'  said  the  girl. 
'  Making  a  secret  of  things  doesn't  alter  them.' 

'  /  object !'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne  sharply.  '  There 
is  no  occasion  to  argue.' 


ROSABEL  155 

'  Then  will  you  tell  him  ?'  suggested  Rosabel. 

The  colour  rose  to  Mrs.  Fairbourne's  cheeks.  She 
turned  to  the  dressing-table. 

'  You  are  the  most  obstinate,  ill-tempered  girl  I 
ever  met  !  I  wish  I  had  left  you  at  home ! 
Why  should  I  consider  you  ?  You  never  consider 
me!' 

'  I  didn't  know  you  were  considering  me,  mother,' 
said  Rosabel.  '  I  thought  you  only  supposed  that 
remarks  would  be  made  if  you  left  me  at  home.  I 
can  go  back  to-morrow  if  you  like.' 

*  I  am  much  obliged  for  your  kind  permission,' 
responded  Mrs.  Fairbourne  sarcastically.  '  I  will 
think  about  it.' 

She  rang  for  her  maid. 

Rosabel  waited  in  silence  for  a  moment. 

'  Do  you  want  me  any  longer,  please  ?' 

'No.' 

The  girl  went  to  her  room.  It  was  apparent  to 
her  that  the  relationship  between  her  and  her  mother 
was  growing  more  strained  every  day.  Mrs.  Fair- 
bourne  no  longer  even  troubled  to  disguise  her  irrita- 
tion when  she  was  irritated,  or  her  anger  when  she 
was  angry.  The  *  speaking  out '  stage  had  arrived, 
and  it  boded  ill  for  the  peace  of  the  household. 

As  usual,  Rosabel's  toilet  was  soon  accomplished  * 
and  she  was  alone  in  the  hall  when  Maurice  Braith- 
waite  entered.  To  her  annoyance,  he  expressed  an 
exaggerated  delight  at  the  fact. 


156  ROSABEL 

*  Now,'  he  said,  '  is  the  very  opportunity  we  have 
been  seeking  so  long  !' 

'  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,'  she  declared  with 
steely  eyes. 

*  Don't  you,  Rosabel  ?     Shall  I  whisper  ?' 
'  Certainly  not.' 

I  mean  to  have  it  before  I  leave  The  Hermitage.' 

Rosabel  walked  to  the  long,  low,  latticed  window  < 
and  sat  down  on  the  seat.  Braithwaite  followed 
her. 

'  If  I  were  our  good  friend  Harrowby,  I  would 
paint  you  sitting  there.  You  are  improving  every 
day,  Rosabel.  I  thought  the  change  was  wonderful 
when  I  saw  you  at  Folkestone  ;  but  now  your  beauty 
dazzles  my  eyes  and  bewilders  my  brain.' 

'  I  suppose  you  can't  help  being  like  this,'  said 
the  girl,  with  quaint  resignation,  folding  her  hands 
in  her  lap.  '  But  it  is  most  objectionable  for  the 
people  who  are  obliged  to  listen  to  you.' 

He  laughed,  greatly  amused. 

'  At  last  you  are  finding  your  tongue.  It  was  the 
one  thing  necessary  to  make  you  a  charming  little 
girl.' 

'  You  know  I'm  not  charming,'  she  said  fiercely, 
'  and  I  do  hate ' 

*  But  you  are  blushing.' 
'  I'm  not !' 

Rosabel  turned  her  cheeks  away,  and  looked  out 
of  the  window. 


ROSABEL  157 

'  I  never  saw  a  better  imitation,  then.  Don't  be 
angry  with  me.'  He  sat  down  on  the  window-seat, 
too,  looking  handsome  in  his  white  shirt-front  and 
dress-clothes.  *  Don't  you  really  like  my  chaff  ?' 

'No.' 

'  Then  I'll  try  to  drop  it.  But  you  get  so  angry 
that  it's  a  temptation.  You  were  always  angry 
with  me  in  the  old  daj^s  ;  do  you  remember  ?  That 
last  time  I  saw  you,  for  instance,  at  the  Angler's 
Inn.' 

*  I  haven't  forgotten  it,'  said  Rosabel  resent- 
fully. 

'  You've  snubbed  me  without  mercy  half  a  dozen 
times,  but  I  bear  no  malice.' 

His  impudence  left  her  speechless.  Without  being 
downright  rude,  it  was  impossible,  she  felt,  to  find 
an  adequate  retort. 

At  that  moment  trailing  draperies  descended  the 
staircase,  and  the  hostess  appeared. 

'  I  shall  wear  this  next  my  heart  for  ever  as  a 
token  of  your  regard  for  me,'  Braithwaite  added 
snatching   up   a   little   lace-bordered   handkerchief 
which  Rosabel  had  dropped. 

'  Give  it  back  at  once  !'  she  cried. 

'  Never,  never  !'  he  added,  mimicking  the  tone  in 
which  she  had  refused  him  the  kiss,  *  until  you 
buy  it !' 

He  slipped  it  into  his  pocket,  and  rose,  laughing, 
but  not  before  Mrs.  Harrowby's  soulful  eyes  had 


i58  ROSABEL 

taken  note  of  every  detail  of  the  little  scene — his 
proximity  to  Rosabel  on  the  window-seat,  the  steal- 
ing of  the  handkerchief,  and  the  low-voiced,  urgent 
intercourse,  all  arguing  a  pretty  considerable  fami- 
liarity between  the  girl  and  the  man. 

She  approached  with  rather  a  curious  little 
smile. 

'  You  were  quick  over  your  dressing,  Rosabel.' 

'  Yes  ;  I  never  take  long,'  replied  Rosabel  inno- 
cently, unconscious  of  the  innuendo. 

*  Where  is  your  mother  ?' 

'  She  will  be  down  presently.' 

Mrs.  Harrowby  sent  her  in  to  dinner  with  Braith- 
waite.  She  had  already  arranged  it  in  her  mind, 
and  could  not  alter  her  plans.  Besides,  it  was  Amy 
Fairbourne's  place  to  look  after  her  daughter.  She 
thought  she  would  make  a  remark  in  private,  never- 
theless, if  she  saw  any  more  :  she  was  not  a  bad 
sort  of  woman ;  and  over  the  table  she  glanced 
several  times  at  Rosabel. 

On  each  occasion,  as  it  happened,  Braithwaite  was 
talking  in  an  undertone  to  the  girl,  and  Rosabel  was 
allowing  him  to  monopolize  her ;  firstly  because  he 
was  her  partner,  and  she  understood  that  he  was 
entitled  to  her  attention  ;  secondly,  because  Aylmer 
was  on  the  other  side  of  her,  and  she  had  her  reasons 
for  not  wishing  to  talk  to  him  ;  lastly,  because  no- 
body, except  Aylmer,  took  any  notice  of  her  as  a 
rule  ;  and  although  she  thought  very  little  of  Maurice 


ROSABEL  159 

Braithwaite,  it  was  pleasanter  to  be  entertained 
than  to  be  left  sitting  silent  and  neglected  at  the 
table.  She  was  even  grateful  to  him  for  showing 
her  mother  and  the  other  women — yes,  and  Aylmer 
— that  a  man  who  did  not  come  from  the  Australian 
backwoods  was  willing  to  notice  her  for  his  own 
pleasure,  not  out  of  mere  kindness.  In  future  they 
might  not  treat  her  with  quite  such  a  lack  of  cere- 
mony, and  Aylmer  would  see  that  she  could  be 
agreeable  if  she  chose. 

So  she  melted  somewhat  towards  Braithwaite,  and 
smiled  at  his  jokes,  and  tried  not  to  be  angry  at  his 
impertinence.  And  when  he  proposed  a  stroll  in 
the  garden  after  dinner  she  assented,  but  was  glad 
that  one  of  the  men  came  along  and  bore  him  off  to 
the  billiard-room  instead. 

She  did  not  go  indoors  herself.  It  was  pleasanter 
in  the  sweet-scented  garden,  and  she  seated  her- 
self in  a  big  basket  chair  on  the  lawn,  and 
watched  the  clouds  floating  across  the  star-lit 
sky. 

Presently  voices  reached  her.  Two  women's 
figures  were  crossing  the  lawn,  and  as  they  ap- 
proached Rosabel  recognised  her  mother  and  Mrs. 
Harrowby. 

'Shall  we  sit  here?'  asked  the  hostess.  'Or 
would  you  rather  stroll  ?' 

'  It  looks  comfortable  here.' 

They  did  not  see  Rosabel,  and  the  girl  did  not 


160  ROSABEL 

speak  or  move.     A  couple  of  chairs  creaked  on  the 
other  side  of  the  tree. 

'  Yes,'  said  Mrs.  Harrowby,  as  though  resuming 
a  conversation  already  begun, '  I  see  a  great  improve- 
ment. You  are  dressing  her  charmingly,  my  dear, 
and  she  seems  to  have  much  more  to  say  for  herself 
than  when  I  dined  with  you  five  weeks  ago.  Pro- 
bably she  was  shy.' 

*  I  believe  she  lived  very  quietly  with  her  father's 
people,'  responded  Mrs.  Fairbourne  cautiously. 

She  was  wondering  how  much  Maurice  Braith- 
waite  had  told  about  Rosabel.  May  Harrowby,  on 
the  other  hand,  was  smiling  with  bitter  sweetness 
in  the  dark,  and  asking  herself  why  she  troubled 
to  do  a  good  turn  to  a  woman  so  uncandid  as  '  dear 
Amy.'  She  pursued  her  course,  nevertheless,  be- 
cause she  was  well-intentioned,  and  also  because  her 
mind  was  too  slow-moving  for  a  change  of  tactics  on 
the  spot. 

*  I    was    noticing     her     with    Maurice    Braith- 
waite,'    she    pursued.     '  Has    she    seen    much    of 
him?' 

'  I  don't  think  so  ;  that  is  to  say,  I  don't  know,' 
replied  Mrs.  Fairbourne  uneasily.  '  Why  ?' 

'They  seem  to  be  such  excellent  friends.  I  happened 
to  find  them  alone  in  the  hall  when  I  came  down 
before  dinner — both  on  the  window-seat.  He  stole 
her  handkerchief,  and  kept  it.  If  he  were  eligible, 
now  !  It  does  seem  a  pity.  Evidently  he  admires 


ROSABEL  161 

her,  and  he  is  simply  rolling.  Of  course,  she  knows 
that  he  has  a  wife  ?' 

'  I  suppose  so.' 

'  I  should  find  out,  my  dear.  One  cannot  be  too 
careful  with  a  girl.  And  he  is  an  awful  rake,  poor 
dear  fellow !  Perhaps  it  was  indiscreet  to  ask 
him?' 

'  Not  at  all,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne.  She  quite 
understood  the  warning  given  to  her.  '  But  it's 
very  good  of  you  to  mention  it.  If  there  is  any 
nonsense,  it  is  all  on  his  side,  and  he  is  merely 
taking  advantage  of  her  inexperience.  Rosabel 
doesn't  care  for  men.' 

'  Really  ?'  The  languid  voice  was  also  a  little 
incredulous. 

'  I'll  soon  stop  it,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne  resolutely, 
growing  sincere.  '  What  cheek  of  him  !' 

'  If  she  were  a  married  woman  it  wouldn't  matter! 
of  course,'  murmured  her  friend,  '  but  he  might  be 
putting  another  man  off — a  serious  man.  It's  too 
bad.  Shall  I  ask  a  boy  to  play  with  her,  and  keep 
her  out  of  mischief  ?' 

'  May,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne  solemnly,  '  you  are  a 
great  and  noble  woman.' 

The  artist's  wife  laughed. 

'  There's  Roger,'  she  said.  '  Twenty-two  years 
old,  six  feet  in  his  stockings,  blue  eyes  and  curly 
hair  ;  son  of  old  Sir  Herbert  Essendene,  our  next- 
door  neighbour.  He  shall  come  and  spend  the  day.' 

ii 


1 62  ROSABEL 

*  You  shall  be  blessed  for  this  a  thousand-fold  !' 
'  I'll  go  in  and  write  a  note  to  him  now,  before  it 
gets  too  late,'  said  Mrs.  Harrowby,  rising.     '  What 
are  the  men  doing  ?     I'm  thirsty.     Wouldn't  you 
like  a  little  B.  and  S.  ?' 

The  ladies  moved  away  together,  the  best  of 
friends,  and  silence  held  the  place  of  their  low 
voices  and  soft  laughter  and  the  rustling  of  many 
silken  frills. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

ROSABEL  was  undressing,  and  had  just  taken  her 
hair  down,  when  somebody  knocked  at  the  door. 
She  unlocked  it,  and  found  her  mother  outside. 

Mrs,  Fairbourne  came  in. 

'  I  did  not  know  you  were  going  to  bed,'  she  said. 

*  I  am  tired,'  said  Rosabel,  averting  her  face,  and 
beginning  to  ply  the  hair-brush  again.    '  I  said  good- 
night to  Mrs.  Harrowby.     She  excused  me.' 

It  was  a  curious  fact  that  Mrs.  Fairbourne  had 
never  seen  Rosabel  with  her  hair  down  before.  She 
had  lovely  hair.  The  woman  who  was  her  mother 
admitted  it  at  once.  She  noted,  too,  the  firm,  white, 
well-moulded  flesh  of  the  girl's  shoulders.  Her 
evening  dresses  should  be  cut  lower  in  future — 
perhaps. 

'  Where  have  you  been  all  the  evening  ?' 

*  In  the  billiard-room  and  the  garden.' 
'  Talking  to  Mr.  Braithwaite  ?' 

'  Yes — and  others.' 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed. 

*  You  can  go  on  undressing,  as  you  are  tired,' 

163  ii — 2 


164  ROSABEL 

she  said.  '  Rosabel,  do  you  know  that  Mr.  Braith- 
waite  is  married  ?' 

'  Of  course  I  do,'  responded  Rosabel. 

The  rose-coloured  shades  of  the  candlesticks  on 
the  dressing-table  threw  a  glow  over  her  face. 

*  One  would  not  think  so  from  the  manner  you 
allow  him  to  adopt  towards  you.     He  is  too  familiar. 
It  looks  bad.     Remarks  have  been  made  already.' 

Rosabel's  mechanical  performance  with  the  hair- 
brush ceased.  She  confronted  her  mother. 

'  I  know  all  about  it,'  she  said.  '  I  heard  you  and 
Mrs.  Harrowby  talking  in  the  garden.' 

'  You  heard  ?' 

'  I  was  in  the  big  chair.' 

*  Eavesdropping,  Rosabel !' 

'  I  didn't  know  you  were  going  to  talk  about  me. 
I  couldn't  help  hearing,  and  then  I  didn't  like  to 
move.' 

'  You  behaved  very  badly.' 

*  I  wasn't  hiding,'  said  the  girl  sullenly.     '  And  I 
was  there  first.     Why  didn't  you  see  me  ?' 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

*  As  it  happens,'  she  said,  '  it  is  of  no  consequence. 
You  have  only  heard  what   I   was   going    to   tell 
you.' 

'  I  didn't  give  him  the  handkerchief,'  said  Rosabel. 
'  He  took  it.' 

'  You  should  have  demanded  it  back  instantly, 
and  shown  him  that  you  were  offended  if  he  did 


ROSABEL  165 

not  return  it.  Instead,  you  let  him  talk  to  you  all 
through  dinner.' 

Rosabel  ceased  to  defend  herself,  and  returned 
to  her  toilet. 

*  I  am  not  finding  fault  with  you  for  the  sake 
of  finding  fault,'  continued  her  mother  sharply,  '  and 
I  am  not  a  prude.  But  you  are  inexperienced, 
and  you  must  be  told,  although  I  know  you  don't 
like  it.  I  dare  say  you  think  you  are  playing  the 
woman  of  the  world  with  Braithwaite,  but  you 
are  making  a  mistake.  There  is  something  between 
behaving  like  a  wooden  doll — which  I  don't  want 
you  to  do,  goodness  knows  ! — and  attracting  too 
much  notice.  It's  the  wrong  sort  of  notice.  Nobody 
could  object  to  your  accepting  attention  from  an 
eligible  man,  but  Braithwaite  is  the  worst  sort  of 
married  man,  and  he  is  not  going  to  make  a  pastime 
of  my  daughter  while  I  am  here  to  prevent  it.' 

The  girl  looked  at  her  mother  with  sudden 
curiosity. 

4  Are  you  afraid  that  I  shall  fall  in  love  with 
him  ?'  she  asked. 

'  I  don't  think  you  would  be  such  a  fool,'  said 
Mrs.  Fairbourne,  '  but  that  isn't  the  question. 
You  must  remember,  Rosabel,  that  you  have  to 
be  even  more  careful,  with  your  past,  than  the 
average  girl.  Unfortunately,  this  Braithwaite  knows 
all  about  you ,  and  it  will  be  said  that  he  is  only 
renewing  an  old  acquaintance.  What  you  have 


166  ROSABEL 

to  remember,  and  what  he  must  be  made  to  re- 
member, is  that  you  are  My  Daughter ' — she  spoke 
in  capitals — '  and  that  he  cannot  treat  you  like  a 
barmaid.' 

'  I  was  a  barmaid,'  said  Rosabel. 

'  That  is  why  I  have  to  teach  you  how  to  behave 
yourself,'  replied  her  mother.  *  It  should  not  be 
necessary.  You  ought  to  be  able  to  perceive 
when  a  man's  attention  means  respectful  admiration 
or  impudence.  To  encourage,  or  even  to  condone, 
the  latter  by  silence  argues  a  vulgar  mind.  For 
God's  sake,  don't  be  vulgar,  Rosabel !  I  am  afraid 
that  you  must  have  permitted  him  a  great  deal 
of  latitude  formerly,  or  he  would  not  dare  to  remind 
you  by  a  look  that  you  met  under  other  circum- 
stances. Anyhow,  he  is  a  blackguard,  and  the  less 
you  have  to  do  with  him  the  better.' 

Rosabel  poured  water  out  of  the  jug  in  silence. 

*  You  cannot  take  it  too  much  to  heart  that 
the  least  whisper,  in  your  case,  would  be  fatal. 
Nobody  would  want  to  marry  you.  And  I  am 
very  anxious  to  see  you  well  married.  It  would 
be  a  great  relief.' 

The  girl  gave  her  an  odd  bright  glance  before 
bending  over  the  basin  to  sponge  her  face. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  was  meditating. 

'  It  should  be  someone  who  knew  nothing,'  she 
added,  uttering  her  thoughts  aloud.  *  Some  nice 
young  fellow  near  your  own  age.' 


ROSABEL  167 

'  The  boy  next  door  ?'  asked  Rosabel. 

Was  it  possible  that  she  was  sarcastic  ?  Mrs. 
Fairbourne  stared  incredulously  at  the  profile  of 
Rosabel's  rounded  cheek,  and  her  colour  mounted 
slightly. 

'  Oh,  you  heard  that  too !  Yes,  anyone — 
anyone,1  she  said,  '  as  long  as  he  was  a  gentleman, 
and  I  need  be  no  longer  responsible  for  you  !' 

In  the  pause  that  followed  the  stable  clock 
struck  twelve.  The  regular  slow  chiming  seemed 
to  emphasize  the  stillness  of  the  house,  and  the 
faint  rustle  of  the  ivy  at  the  window  succeeded 
it  like  the  whispering  of  an  unseen  ghostly  chorus 
on  a  matter  of  moment  urgently  discussed. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  aroused  herself. 

*  So  late  !'  She  rose,  yawning.  Her  composure 
was  restored.  '  I  thought  it  wise  to  warn  you. 
The  world  is  censorious.  It  is  only  a  married  woman 
who  can  afford  to  play  with  fire.  Good-night,  my 
dear.' 

'  Good-night,'  said  Rosabel. 

She  relocked  the  door.  Her  face  looked  hot, 
and  her  eyes  still  wore  the  curious  expression  with 
which  she  had  regarded  her  mother  just  now. 

She  finished  undressing,  and  got  into  bed,  but 
left  the  candle  alight  beside  her,  and  sat  up  staring, 
her  chin  on  her  knees. 

Once  more  there  was  silence,  silence,  as  of  a 
world  asleep.  The  flame  of  the  candle  flickered, 


1 68  ROSABEL 

the  shadows  played  hide-and-seek  among  the 
window  curtains,  and  again  the  ivy  whispered  a 
message,  persistently,  as  though  it  could  wait  no 
longer  for  its  will  to  be  fulfilled. 

Rosabel  listened,  translating  slowly,  understand- 
ing dimly,  like  a  child  following  a  language  still 
strange,  and  her  heart  beat  fast. 

'  She  doesn't  care  for  you,  only  for  herself — 
herself — herself,'  the  voices  whispered.  '  You  might 
be  as  miserable  as  you  liked  as  long  as  nothing 
occurred  to  disgrace  her,  and  nobody  knew.' 

The  meaning  of  the  whispers  became  clearer. 

'  It  is  only  fear  of  a  scandal  that  could  bring 
home  to  her  what  she  has  done.  She  never  pro- 
tected you  ;  she  left  you  exposed  to  the  vulgar 
temptations  of  a  public-house.  If  you  had  fallen 
then  she  would  not  have  cared.  Nobody  knew 
you — you  could  have  dropped  in  obscurity  like  an 
autumn  leaf.  But  now,  for  money,  she  has  intro- 
duced you  to  the  world  as  her  daughter,  and  your 
actions  reflect  upon  her  pride,  and  your  disgrace 
would  be  hers.  So  she  is  anxious  about  you  for 
her  own  sake,  just  as  she  was  anxious  formerly  to 
hide  you  in  some  corner  out  of  the  way.' 

The  voices  became  articulate.  At  last  Rosabel 
heard  what  she  had  been  straining  to  hear  uncon- 
sciously since  she  came  to  Great  Cumberland 
Place. 

'  Suppose  you  were  really  what  you  might  have 


ROSABEL  169 

been  ?  Suppose  her  false  pride  and  heartlessness 
found  its  due  punishment  ?' 

Something  seemed  to  crack  in  the  girl's  brain 
and  admit  a  flash  like  lightning,  and  all  the  anguish, 
the  resentment,  the  yearning  aspirations  which 
for  years  had  filled  her  breast  to  the  point  of 
bursting,  culminated  in  that  illumination  of  mind 
with  the  passionate  thrilling  foretaste  of  a  possible 
revenge. 

If  that  harvest  should  be  reaped  which  had  been 
sown  ! 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BREAKFAST  was  a  movable  feast  at  The  Hermitage. 
It  was  on  the  table  from  eight  till  ten,  and  people 
made  their  own  tea  or  poured  out  their  own  coffee, 
and  selected  from  covered  silver  dishes  kept  hot 
by  an  arrangement  of  spirit  lamps  on  the  sideboard. 

Maurice  Braithwaite,  descending  on  the  stroke 
of  nine,  found  an  empty  room,  and  windows  standing 
wide  to  the  scented  sunshine. 

He  took  some  fish  and  coffee.  Among  the  letters 
on  a  side-table  he  found  a  couple  for  himself,  and 
opened  them  with  the  careless  air  of  an  unburdened 
mind.  He  had  no  bills,  and  there  was  nobody  in 
the  world  he  cared  twopence  about,  his  wife  included. 
He  looked  clean  and  smart  in  a  gray  suit  and  white 
tie,  and  he  seated  himself  leisurely  at  the  table  with 
his  cup  and  plate,  and  reached  for  the  rolls. 

Then  something  came  between  him  and  the 
sunlight,  and,  glancing  up,  he  saw  Rosabel  at  the 
window. 

*  'Morning,  Rosabel.' 

She  entered,  bare-headed,  her  straw  hat  in  her 
170 


ROSABEL  171 

hand,  treading  with  a  certain  light  cautiousness 
like  a  young  cat,  her  eyes  fixed  warily  on  him. 
There  was  something  unusual  in  her  manner  this 
morning,  something  he  could  not  define,  which 
made  him  watch  her  across  the  room  as  he  had 
caught  her  watching  him  from  the  window. 
'  Have  you  had  breakfast  ?' 

*  No,'  said  Rosabel  deliberately.    '  I   waited   for 
you.' 

'  Did  you  ?'  He  gave  a  little  laugh  of  mingled 
surprise  and  amusement.  '  Now  I  call  that  real 
friendly  !  In  return,  I'll  get  you  your  breakfast.' 

'  Oh,  don't  trouble,'  said  Rosabel. 

'  I'll  wait  upon  you  for  a  change !'  he  said. 
'  Sit  here  beside  me.  What  will  you  have  ?  I 
recommend  the  fish.' 

She  seated  herself  at  the  table,  while  he  rose  to 
wait  on  her.  What  would  they  have  said  at  the 
Angler's  Inn  ? 

*  Been  up  long  ?'  he  asked. 
'  Half  an  hour.' 

*  You're  hungry,  then  ?     And  you  waited  for  me !' 
He  laughed  again.     '  Good  girl !' 

'  I  guessed  you  would  be  late,'  she  said. 

'  Why  ?' 

'  Oh,  you  are  the  sort  of  person  who  would  be, 
I  think,  unless  you  had  something  very  nice  to  do.' 

'  Such  as  talking  to  you !'  he  supplemented. 
'  I  would  have  got  up  earlier  if  I'd  known.  Let 


172 


ROSABEL 


us  have  breakfast  together  every  morning,  shall  we, 
Rosabel  ?' 

*  If  you  like,'  she  said.     '  But  I  want  mine  at 
eight,  as  a  rule,  not  at  nine.' 

'  I'll  get  up  at  eight,  too,  if  you  insist ;  but  can't 
you  make  it  half -past  ?' 

*  Very  well,  half-past  eight.' 

There  was  a  glimmer  of  a  smile  on  her  face. 
His  eyes  sought  hers,  and  held  them. 

*  I  am  still  wearing  your  handkerchief  next  my 
heart,'  he  said,  and  showed  her  a  corner.     '  Look  !' 

'  That's  silly,'  said  the  girl  with  composure, 
*  because  you  are  not  in  love  with  me.' 

'  I  am — madly  in  love  with  you  !' 

'  But  it  isn't  at  all  proper  that  you  should  be,' 
said  Rosabel. 

'  Do  let  me  forget  my  wife  for  ten  minutes. 
Are  you  trying  to  take  away  my  appetite,  you  cruel 
girl  ?' 

*  I  think  you  are  making  fun  of  me,'  she  said. 
'  And  I  don't  like  people  who  make  fun  of  me.' 

He  was  still  eating,  but  his  attention  was  no  longer 
absorbed  by  trout  and  coffee.  Again  he  was  per- 
plexed by  that  subtle  something  about  her  which 
was  new.  In  the  moment  that  he  paused  to  find 
an  answer  it  came  to  him.  She  was  making  a 
step  forward  instead  of  a  step  back.  If  she  were 
still  a  little  timid,  she  was  also  attracted — or  merely 
curious.  In  either  case,  her  lure  was  intentional, 


ROSABEL  173 

not  unconscious.  Yesterday  she  had  shrunk  from 
him  with  indignation,  this  morning  she  held  out 
her  hand. 

He  admired  her,  and  he  was  the  last  man  in  the 
world  to  be  restrained  by  decency.  When  nothing 
was  given  him  he  begged  ;  if  any  woman  gave  him 
an  inch,  he  took  an  ell.  He  never  forgot,  of  course, 
where  and  how  her  life  had  been  spent.  It  was 
absurd  to  expect  a  prude  to  come  out  of  the  Angler's 
Inn.  She  had  wanted  stirring  up,  as  he  had  con- 
cluded before,  and,  unconsciously,  it  seemed,  he 
had  done  the  stirring  up.  He  was  gratified.  Never 
had  so  little  trouble  promised  a  keener  reward. 

'  Have  some  more  trout,  Rosabel  ?  No  ?  Fruit, 
then  ?' 

He  gave  her  a  clean  plate,  and  took  a  peach 
himself  with  a  glance  at  the  girl  which  was  full  of 
meaning. 

'  Do  you  like  peaches,  Rosabel  ?' 

She  nodded. 

'  So  do  I,'  he  said.  '  We  all  do.  Only  sometimes 
they're  green  and  bad  for  us,  and  sometimes  other 
people  get  the  pick  of  the  dish  before  we're  down  ! 
The  thing  is  to  be  down  early,  eh  ?' 

*  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,'  she  said,  frowning 
at  him  for  the  first  time  that  morning. 

*  Peaches  should  be  fresh  and  luscious,'  he  said, 
4  and  with  pink  cheeks  like  yours.  ...  Is  Aylmer 
going  to  marry  your  mother  ?'  he  added  abruptly. 


I74  ROSABEL 

'  They  haven't  told  me.1 

'  Do  you  want  a  stepfather  ?'  he  asked. 

She  reddened. 

*  I  don't  care.' 

'  She's  a  smart  woman,  your  mother,  but — 
Lord !  he  would  be  the  third,  wouldn't  he  ?  A 
plucky  fellow,  by  Jove  1' 

*  She  didn't  kill  the  other  two,'  said  Rosabel,- 
prompted  by  a  peculiar  inconsistency  to  defend  her 
mother. 

He  laughed  loudly. 

*  Bravo,  Rosabel !  you  are  certainly  finding  your 
tongue  !     Let  me  pour  you  out  some  more  coffee.' 

They  finished  breakfast  amicably,  and  Braith- 
waite  had  strolled  outside,  lighting  a  cigarette, 
while  Rosabel  lingered  to  pin  on  her  hat,  when 
Aylmer  entered. 

He  smiled  at  the  girl. 

*  You  forgot  our  appointment !' 

*  What  appointment  ?'  she  asked. 

*  Weren't  we  going  to  take  a  walk  before  breakfast 
on  our  first  morning  here  ?     I  reminded  you  last 
night.     I   expected   you   down   at   seven   o'clock. 
Did  you  oversleep  yourself  ?' 

*  No ;  I  didn't  feel  inclined  to  get  up.' 

*  So  you  had  breakfast  all  alone  as  a  punishment !' 

*  I  had  it  with  Mr.  Braithwaite,'  she  said. 
Aylmer's  brows  contracted  sharply. 

At  that  moment  the  other  man  called  her. 


ROSABEL  175 

'  Are  you  ready,  Rosabel  ?' 

*  Where  are  you  going  ?'  asked  Aylmer. 

*  Only  into  the  garden.' 

*  May  I  come  too  ?'  was  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue, 
but  he  did  not  utter  the  question.     Instead,  he 
turned  away,  and  picked  up  a  newspaper,  and  over 
the  edge  of  it  watched  her  join  Braithwaite. 

Why  it  should  enrage  him  to  see  them  together 
he  did  not  know,  but  enrage  him  it  did.  He  told 
himself  that  he  did  not  like  Braithwaite,  and  that 
he  was  an  unfit  companion  for  a  young  girl.  An 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  man's  antecedents 
was  not  necessary  for  his  information.  Braith- 
waite's  *  tone '  had  been  palpable  enough  in  the 
billiard-room  last  night.  Even  before  that  it  had 
been  easy  enough  to  gauge  him. 

Aylmer  opened  the  newspaper,  and  read  a 
column.  When  he  reached  the  bottom  of  it  he 
began  again  labouredly.  Then  his  eyes  wandered 
with  his  thoughts. 

*  I  shall  speak  to  Amy,'  he  said  aloud. 

The  sharp  reminder  of  memory  that  Rosabel  was 
not  fresh  from  the  schoolroom  or  the  convent, 
and  should  have  acquired  a  wide  experience  in 
peculiar  circumstances^  was  singularly  unwelcome 
to  him.  The  girl  was  no  hothouse  bloom,  indeed. 
She  must  have  come  into  contact  with  a  good 
many  men,  and  been  left  to  sift  the  wheat  from 
the  tares  alone.  And  she  had  known  Maurice 


176  ROSABEL 

Braithwaite  in  those  days.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
was  her  oldest  acquaintance  at  The  Hermitage,  her 
mother  included. 

Aylmer  snatched  at  the  paper  again,  and  read  a 
divorce  case,  a  leader,  and  an  advertisement  for 
somebody's  pills,  with  the  air  of  a  judge. 

'  All  the  same,  I  thought  she  didn't  like  him,' 
he  mused. 

He  was  also  conscious  that  he  had  hoped  so.  In 
his  estimation  it  soiled  her  natural  cleanliness  of 
soul  that  she  should  be  on  friendly  terms  with  a 
man  worse  than  second-rate.  She  ought  to  be 
able  to  discriminate.  He  had  given  her  credit  for 
fine  instincts. 

At  the  back  of  his  mind,  too,  was  disappointment 
that  she  had  not  thought  it  worth  while  to  get  up 
for  a  walk  with  him,  and  had  not  even  troubled 
to  excuse  herself.  He  had  had  the  idea  that  she 
liked  him,  and  would  take  some  pains  to  retain  his 
friendship.  But  the  world  was  full  of  disappoint- 
ments, and  the  man  who  thought  that  a  girl  had 
been  really  sincere  with  him  was  probably  a  fool. 

It  was  seldom  that  he  was  bitter,  and  presently 
he  felt  that  it  was  absurd  to  be  offended.  The 
incident  was  not  sufficiently  important,  and  he 
chose  to  look  after  her  ;  she  should  not  be  left  alone 
with  Braithwaite. 

He  put  down  the  newspaper,  and  followed  them. 
He  had  it  in  his  mind  to  warn  her,  at  the  first  oppor- 


ROSABEL  177 

tunity,   against   Braithwaite.     She   always  seemed 
to  listen  when  he  spoke  to  her.     Of  course,  it  was' 
her  mother's  place,  but  Amy 

Again  strong  irritation  awoke  in  him,  this  time 
against  Mrs.  Fairbourne.  Really,  there  were  duties 
a  woman  owed  to  herself,  and  she  was  too  casual. 
She  ought  to  care,  and  if  she  did  not,  decency  would 
assume  something. 

He  did  not  know  that  he  wronged  her  in  this 
instance,  and  would  not  have  cared  to  know.  He 
wanted  a  scapegoat — anyone  instead  of  Rosabel. 

When  he  came  across  the  girl  she  was  just  stop- 
ping to  pick  herself  a  rose.  Braithwaite  helped  to 
pin  it  in  her  dress,  and  their  heads  and  hands 
came  close  together.  They  seemed  absorbed  in 
each  other,  and  unconscious  of  observation,  and  a 
reluctance  to  join  them  overtook  Aylmer.  He  had 
at  least  as  much  right  to  be  with  her  as  Braithwaite, 
but  that  horror  of  being  ridiculous,  which  is  the 
nightmare  of  the  modern  man,  held  him  back  with 
chains.  If  Rosabel  were  to  look  surprised,  if 
Braithwaite  were  to  smile  sarcastically !  He  was 
not  her  brother,  nor  her  guardian,  nor  even  her 
stepfather.  In  fact,  it  was  not  in  his  power  to 
preserve  her  from  undesirable  friends. 

He  turned  away  without  another  glance,  and 
went  indoors  again.  In  the  interval  Gledhow,  a 
big,  stout,  red-faced  man,  had  come  down,  and'was 
devouring  ham  and  eggs  with  a  horrible  "appetite. 

12 


I78  ROSABEL 

Aylmer  sat  apart  and  watched  him,  for  the 
pleasure  of  contradicting  every  assertion  he  fired 
off  between  mouthfuls,  until  the  injured  man 
struck. 

'  You  are  in  a  fine  temper  this  morning  !  Had  a 
bill  for  breakfast  ?' 

*  I  in  a  temper  ?'  exclaimed  Aylmer  coolly. 
*  What  an  idea  !' 

'  A  beastly  temper,'  insisted  Gledhow.  '  Have 
some  more  breakfast.' 

'  No  ;  it  is  making  me  quite  sick  enough  to  watch 
you.  How  a  man,  a  normal  civilized  man,  who 
gets  three  meals  a  day  every  day  of  his  life,  should 
be  able  to  stoke  like  that  directly  he  leaves  his  bed 
is  a  marvel  to  me.' 

Gledhow  poured  out  more  coffee,  and  put  three 
lumps  of  sugar  in  his  cup  with  a  seraphic  smile. 

'  Perhaps  you  are  in  love,'  he  said. 

'  It  is  not  astonishing  that  you  grow  fatter  as 
one  looks  at  you.  By-and-by  you  will  be  a  huge 
unwieldy  object  like  a  feather-bed,  and  you  will 
have  to  have  a  lift  built  in  your  house  because  you 
can't  walk  upstairs.' 

'  Certainly  it  is  love,'  said  Gledhow.  *  Pass  the 
toast.' 

Aylmer  pushed  the  rack  across  the  table. 

'  Love,'  he  repeated,  meditating,  *  love  !  You 
are  so  sentimental,  Bobby.  I  remember  you  wept 
in  a  handkerchief  as  big  as  a  sheet  last  time 


ROSABEL  179 

I  took   you  to  the  theatre,  and  said  you  had  a 
cold.' 

*  I've  been  saving  up  to  buy  you  a  wedding- 
present  for  ever  so  long,'  said  Gledhow,  '  and  still 
no  little  cards  come.' 

Aylmer  rose  from  the  bottom  of  a  well.  His 
tongue  had  been  talking,  not  his  brain. 

'Eh  ?'  he  queried  vaguely. 

'  Oh,  for  the  hot  impetuous  blood  of  youth ! 
You're  fishy,  that's  what  you  are — fishy  !'  Gledhow 
sniffed  contempt.  '  You've  got  anaemic  because 
you  don't  believe  in  breakfast.  By  the  time  you  are 
my  age  you'll  be  a  dried-up,  withered  old  bachelor.' 

'  What  a  splendid  reader  of  character  you  are  !' 
said  Aylmer.  '  You  are  wasting  yourself  on  canvas 
and  paint.  You  ought  to  set  up  as  a  fortune- 
teller in  Bond  Street.' 

'  Fishy,'  repeated  Gledhow,  nodding.  '  Ah,  here 
comes  Mrs.  Fairbourne.  I'm  going  to  ask  her  if 
she  doesn't  agree  with  me.' 

Aylmer  smiled. 

4  Go  on,'  he  said. 

*  Is   that   a   dare  ?'   murmured   the   other  man, 
chuckling. 

'  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,'  said  Aylmer. 
*  You  can  go  to  the  devil !' 

All  the  women  came  in.  They  had  breakfasted 
upstairs,  and  were  ready  for  walking. 

'  The  programme,'  said  Mrs.  Harrowby,  '  is  golf 

12 — 2 


i8o  ROSABEL 

for  four,  and  fishing  for  three,  I  believe,  till  lunch. 
What  will  the  girl  do,  Amy  ?' 

'  She  can  come  with  us  to  the  golf  course.  Where 
is  she  ?' 

'  I  saw  her  in  the  garden  with  Braithwaite,'  said 
Aylmer. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  bit  her  lip,  and  went  to  the 
window. 

*  We  are  all  coming  out,'  said  Mrs.  Harrowby. 

Aylmer  fetched  his  hat.  When  he  rejoined  the 
others  on  the  lawn  Rosabel  and  Braithwaite  were 
with  them,  and  a  rose — the  flower  which  seemed  so 
intimately  associated  with  Rosabel  by  name — was 
in  Braithwaite's  button-hole. 

Something  rapped  Aylmer  sharply  on  the  heart. 
He  knew  before  he  looked  that  Rosabel's  rose 
was  gone,  and  that  it  was  the  identical  one  which 
now  adorned  the  man's  coat.  He  must  have  asked 
for  it,  and  she  had  given  it  to  him. 

It  was  only  a  trifle,  but  the  blood  rushed  to 
Aylmer's  head,  and  he  felt  hot ;  it  ebbed,  and  he 
was  white  and  a  little  shaky.  He  remembered 
having  just  that  sensation  once  when,  as  a  boy,  a 
woman  had  first  looked  at  him.  It  made  him 
realize.  .  .  . 

The  revelation  was  almost  a  shock.  He  stood 
silent  with  a  drumming  in  his  ears.  Yes,  he  was 
jealous  with  the  jealousy  of  passion.  If  he  could 
have  had  his  way  she  should  not  have  spoken  to 


ROSABEL  181 

another  man.  He  wanted  her  all  to  himself— her 
thoughts  as  well  as  her  words,  her  eyes,  her  smiles. 
And  she  was  only  a  girl  as  other  girls.  There 
was  nothing  so  remarkable  about  her.  She  was 
not  a  beauty,  she  was  not  clever;  she  had  been 
brought  up  in  a  way  of  which  he  disapproved 
entirely — in  a  way  which  would  have  frightened  off 
many  men ;  at  their  first  meeting  he  had  scarcely 
looked  at  her.  Why  was  it  ? 

Already  he  knew  that  his  feeling  for  her  was 
entirely  different  from  anything  the  mother  or  any 
other  woman  had  ever  inspired  in  him.  He  had 
admired  Amy  Fairbourne's  elegance,  her  tact,  her 
cultivation,  her  knowledge  of  the  world  ;  Rosabel 
had  none  of  these  things,  and  he  loved  her.  He 
was  so  keen  that  it  made  him  boil  to  see  her 
walking  and  talking  with  Braithwaite.  The  rose 
Braithwaite  wore  was  like  an  insult  to  him,  an 
insult  which  he  would  have  liked  to  revenge  with 
a  blow  !  He  despised  while  he  analyzed  himself. 
He  had  been  so  cool  and  cautious,  as  reluctant  to 
take  a  step  forward  as  a  cat  on  ice,  and  now  he  was 
ready  at  a  glance  from  a  girl  of  nineteen  to  risk 
everything. 

But  he  must  have  the  glance.  He  was  not  the 
man  to  court  a  refusal.  There  would  have  to  be 
some  assurance  on  her  part.  And  at  present  it 
seemed  likely  that  he  would  have  to  wait  a  long 
time  for  it.  She  was  taking  no  notice  of  him  to-day. 


182  ROSABEL 

She  had  even  snubbed  him.  And  the  rose  she  had 
picked  was  in  Braithwaite's  button-hole.  Braith- 
waite,  who  had  no  right  whatever  to  expect  it,  was 
the  recipient  of  marked  favour. 

If  she  had  been  another  girl  he  would  have 
called  her  a  coquette,  but  he  did  not  believe  Rosabel 
capable  of  any  nonsense  of  that  kind.  An  almost 
brutal  sincerity  was  hers  by  nature.  When  she 
was  hungry  she  ate,  when  she  was  tired  she  went 
to  bed,  when  she  was  pleased  she  smiled,  when  she 
was  angry  she  scowled.  She  could  not  play  with 
a  man  for  mere  amusement.  Although  Braith- 
waite  was  out  of  the  game,  Aylmer  feared  that 
she  really  cared  for  him,  and  grew  exceedingly 
bitter  over  such  evidence  of  bad  taste.  He  did  not 
say  to  himself  in  as  many  words,  '  The  girl  who 
is  attracted  by  that  animal  cannot  appreciate  me,' 
but  he  felt  it.  It  would  have  pleased  him  to  kick 
Braithwaite  out  of  The  Hermitage  gate. 

A  grimly  humorous  conception  of  his  own 
folly  set  him  smiling  at  last.  After  all,  time  was 
before  him,  and  the  vertigo  which  had  attacked 
his  self-confidence  passed  over.  He  would  wait 
a  bit.  By-and-by  she  would  turn  to  him  again. 
She  did  like  him ;  he  was  sure  of  that.  The  only 
sane  course  would  be  to  take  no  notice,  and  welcome 
her  without  comment  whenever  she  chose  to  come. 

The  state  of  his  emotions  did  not  put  his  hand 
out  for  golf,  at  any  rate,  and  he  watched  Rosabel, 


ROSABEL  183 

who  had  chosen  the  players  instead  of  the  fishers, 
without  perceptible  concern.  Braithwaite  was 
playing  too  ;  was  that  why  she  had  come  ? 

Sometimes  she  walked  with  him,  but  the  greater 
part  of  the  morning  she  wandered  alone  with 
self-absorbed  face,  picking  wild  flowers,  or  resting 
on  the  grass,  while  the  sun  kissed  her  round  peachy 
face  to  a  still  warmer  glow. 

Aylmer  crossed  a  meadow  to  speak  to  her  at  last. 
His  manner  was  as  usual,  betraying  no  under- 
current of  any  kind  even  to  Mrs.  Fairbourne's 
keen-eyed  jealousy. 

'  Are  you  weaving  daisy-chains,  Rosabel  ?' 

'  I  left  off  doing  that  when  I  was  ten  years  old,' 
she  said,  looking  up  with  the  sun  in  her  eyes. 

'  Day-dreams,  then,  the  privilege  of  maiden- 
hood !' 

She  flushed.  He  noticed  that  her  lashes  and 
her  hair  were  golden  in  the  brilliant  bath  of  light. 

'  Who  is  winning  ?'  she  asked. 

*  Your  friend  Braithwaite  is  doing  very  well.' 

'  He  says  he  is  good  at  all  sports.' 

'  Does  he  ?'  Aylmer  was  bitter.  '  Probably  he 
devotes  his  life  to  them.' 

'  Is  he  beating  you  ?' 

The  question  was  so  singularly  pointed  that  he 
flinched.  But  she  looked  innocent. 

'  At  present  he  seems  to  have  the  advantage, 
certainly  !' 


184  ROSABEL 

'  I  shouldn't  play  games  unless  I  had  a  good 
chance,'  she  said.  '  I  should  hate  being  beaten.' 

'  That's  a  spirit  which  leads  to  jealousy  and 
endless  strife  and  discontent.' 

'  I  can't  help  it,  I've  got  it,'  said  the  girl,  locking 
her  hands  round  her  knee  as  she  sat  on  the  grass. 
'  I  am  jealous,  and  I  should  like  always  to  be  first.' 

She  knew  herself  ;  she  had  got  it.  The  heaviness 
of  the  lower  part  of  her  face,  the  determined  set 
of  her  lips,  the  straight  brows  on  the  broad  forehead, 
the  fire  of  mingled  defiance  and  resentment  a  word 
could  kindle  in  her  eyes,  the  deliberation  with  which 
she  spoke  when  she  spoke  at  all,  were  indelible  signs 
of  character. 

*  In  fact,  you  want  your  own  way,'  he  said, 
'  and  are  ready  to  hate  everyone  who  won't  let 
you  have  it !' 

'  Yes,'  she  admitted. 

'  And  your  self-depreciation  is  a  form  of  vanity. 
If  people  won't  think  you  first-rate,  you  turn  sulky, 
and  pretend  that  you  don't  care  what  they  think, 
and  would  rather  have  nothing  at  all  to  do  with 
them  !  You  will  give  all  or  nothing,  receive  all  or 
nothing ;  be  everything,  or  let  yourself  go,  and 
refuse  to  make  the  best  of  the  gifts  you  have.' 

Rosabel  stared  at  him  ;  her  mouth  opened. 

'  Is  that  true  ?' ' 

'  Y — yes.     How  did  you  know  ?' 

'  I  am  very  wise  !'  said  Aylmer. 


ROSABEL  185 

'  Do  you  ever  talk  like  this  to  mother  ?'  she  in- 
quired sapiently. 

He  smiled. 

'No.' 

'  Why  don't  you  ?' 

'  She  wouldn't  appreciate  it.' 

The  girl  plucked  a  blade  of  grass  to  nibble. 

*  You  are  the  only  woman  I  ever  met,'  he  added, 
'  who  would  admit  her  faults  !' 

'  And  yet  you  said  I  was  vain  !'  Rosabel  was 
deeply  interested. 

'  So  you  are,  but  you  have  counteracting  qualities 
rare  in  your  sex.  You  are  absolutely  truthful^ 
and  you  have  a  logical  mind.  With  such  a  com- 
bination of  virtues  one  ought  to  be  able  to  trust 
you  not  to  do  anything  foolish.' 

'  How — foolish  ?'  she  queried. 

'  Oh,  any  of  the  usual  things  done  by  girls  who 
are  weak,  and  sentimental  in  the  wrong  way,  and 

silly.  For  instance,  you  wouldn't '  He  checked 

himself  on  the  verge  of  saying  *  run  away  with  a 
groom,'  and  substituted :  '  You  wouldn't  throw 
your  life  away  on  a  drunkard,  a  profligate,  a  thief. 
And  you  wouldn't  think  it  was  amusing  and  smart  to 
start  a  vulgar  flirtation  with  a  fast  man  you  did  not 
mean  to  marry — or  a  man  who  already  had  a  wife.' 

Rosabel's  cheeks  flamed.  Her  lids  drooped, 
then  lifted  again.  She  regarded  him  steadily  with 
an  effort. 


186  ROSABEL 

*  A  girl   of  that   sort   doesn't   attract    envy    or 
admiration,  whatever  she  may  imagine,'  he  pursued 
quietly.     '  Women  sneer  and  men  smile — unkindly 
in  both  cases.     I  should  never  feel  uneasy  about 
you.' 

'  Of  course  you  needn't,'  she  said.  *  I  don't 
matter  to  you.' 

*  That  is  a  mistake.     I  should  be  sorry  to  see 
anyone  make  a  fool  of  you — and  sorrier  still  to  see 
you  make  a  fool  of  yourself.' 

'  On  mother's  account,  of  course  !' 

'  On  your  own  account  as  well.' 

Rosabel  tugged  at  another  grass-stalk,  wrenching 
it  up  by  the  root,  and  bent  her  head  over  it  as  she 
picked  it  to  pieces  with  shaky  hands. 

*  Nobody  will  ever  make  a  fool  of  me,'  she  said 
at  last. 

'  I  am  sure  not.     Have  I  not  said  that  I  think 
you  are  sensible  and  trustworthy  ?' 
'  You  only  pretend  to  think  so.' 

*  What  a  sceptic  you  are  !' 

*  Oh,  I  know,'  she  said  darkly. 
'  What  do  you  know  ?' 

She  would  not  answer  or  look  up,  and  he  was 
called  at  that  moment  back  to  the  game. 

But  as  he  left  her  Rosabel  looked  after  him 
under  her  thick  lashes  with  a  resentful  air. 

'  Of  course  mother  set  him  on  me,'  she  thought. 
*  And  I  didn't  guess  at  first !  I  let  him  talk.' 


ROSABEL  187 

She  hated  herself  for  the  stupidity  of  playing 
into  his  hands.  He  would  carry  away  the  idea 
that  she  had  been  impressed  by  his  remarks,  and 
her  mother  would  be  pleased.  Did  he  imagine 
that  she  could  not  see  through  his  affected  spon- 
taneity, and  understand  the  motive  which  had 
brought  him  strolling  so  carelessly  to  her  side  ? 

The  glow  in  her  cheeks  deepened  as  she  mused. 
Once  more  he  had  forced  the  armour  of  her  reserve, 
and  got  something,  if  ever  so  little,  for  his  pains. 
She  had  decided  to  keep  him  outside  like  the  rest,, 
to  range  him  with  her  mother  on  the  other  side, 
he  who  was  her  mother's  friend,  and  again  he  had 
taken  her  unawares,  and  she  had  been  herself  with 
him. 

It  should  never  happen  again.  He  should  not 
influence  her.  She  had  made  up  her  mind  last 
night  as  she  lay  staring  at  the  dark,  and  when  once 
Rosabel  knew  her  own  mind  she  could  display  a 
strength  and  tenacity  of  purpose  almost  terrible 
in  a  girl  so  young. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

NOTHING  escaped  Mrs.  Fairbourne's  eyes.  She  had 
seen  Aylmer's  tendency  to  wander  towards  Rosabel 
that  morning,  and  their  earnest  if  brief  conversa- 
tion, and  made  a  determined  effort  to  capture  her 
errant  knight  that  afternoon  when  the  question  of 
driving  cropped  up. 

There  was  a  landau,  and  a  dog-cart,  and  the 
governess-car  belonging  to  the  children,  therefore 
everybody  could  go  who  chose,  and  Mrs.  Fairbourne 
marked  the  dog-cart  for  herself  and  Aylmer. 

*  I  haven't  handled  the  ribbons  for  years,'  she 
said,  '  but  I  think  I  am  equal  to  that  quiet  bay  of 
yours,  May,  and  I  feel  energetic  this  afternoon.' 

'  Very  well,  dear,'  said  Mrs.  Harrowby  amiably. 
'  Will  you  take  somebody  ?' 

'  Mr.  Aylmer,  may  I  take  you  ?' 

'  Delighted,'  he  said.     It  was  impossible  to  refuse. 

Gledhow  chuckled. 

*  You  are  a  brave  man,  by  Jove  !' 

*  What  do  you  mean  ?'   she  demanded  a  trifle 
sharply. 

1 88 


ROSABEL  189 

'  To  trust  himself  with  you.  That  mare  isn't  so 
quiet.' 

'  How  rude  you  are !'  she  said,  relieved. 

'  Would  not  a  man  risk  death  for  the  sake  of 
such  fair  company  ?'  asked  Aylmer.  *  He  is  jealous, 
dear  lady,  because  you  did  not  ask  him.  The 
green-eyed  monster  is  a  disgusting  reptile.' 

'  Disgusting  yourself,'  said  Gledhow. 

'  Now,  Bobby,  Bobby,  be  polite,'  said  his  wife. 

'  Smack  him,  and  send  him  to  bed,  Mrs.  Gledhow,' 
suggested  Harrowby. 

'  He  shan't  have  any  sugar  in  his  tea,'  she 
promised. 

Gledhow  got  out  a  handkerchief  and  howled. 

Rosabel  thought  they  were  all  very  silly.  She 
despised  childishness  as  much  as  horse-play. 
Tragedy  she  could  understand,  not  comedy.  A 
sense  of  humour  is  one  of  the  things  which,  like  a 
complexion,  cannot  be  acquired  at  adult  age. 

The  dog-cart  came  round,  and  Aylmer  assisted 
Mrs.  Fairbourne  up,  and  mounted  beside  her.  She 
thought  she  had  been  very  clever,  but  the  ease 
with  which  he  had  submitted  was  neither  laziness 
nor  helplessness.  He  was  quite  aware  of  her  state 
of  mind,  and  not  a  single  manoeuvre  on  her  part 
escaped  his  notice.  She  had  caught  a  tartar  for 
once.  As  she  insisted  upon  a  tete-a-tete,  she  should 
pay  for  it. 

The   groom   went   with   the  landau  ;  they  were 


I9o  ROSABEL 

quite  alone.  When  a  country  lane  received  them 
in  its  green  arms,  Aylmer  broke  the  silence. 

'  Your  reins  are  too  slack.' 

She  tightened  them. 

'So?' 

'  Better.  That  is  one  of  the  faults  of  the  amateur 
• — a  commoner  one  than  jagging  the  poor  brute's 
jaw.  You  want  just  to  feel  his  mouth.' 

'  My  heart  is  tender,'  she  said.  '  I  like  to  allow 
even  a  horse  as  much  latitude  as  is  good  for  him.' 

'  But  over-indulgence  spoils  the  child.' 

'  They  say  so.' 

'  I  have  been  talking  to  Rosabel,'  he  added,  after 
a  pause.  '  Have  you  noticed  anything  ?' 

'  Noticed  ?'  she  repeated.     '  What  do  you  mean  ?' 

*  Girls  want  advice  sometimes,'  he  said. 
She  touched  up  the  bay  with  the  whip. 

*  But  they  don't  know  it,  and  sometimes  they 
won't  take  it !' 

'  She  is  very  young.' 
'  And  as  obstinate  as  a  mule  !' 
'  I  think  you  exaggerate,'  he  said  coldly.     *  She 
only  wants  telling.' 
'  What  ?' 

*  Not   to   be   quite   so   pleasant   to   Braithwaite. 
He  is  the  wrong  sort.     He  might  misunderstand.' 

*  You,  too  !'  she  cried  in  a  rage. 

*  Somebody  else  has  mentioned  it  ?' 
'  May  Harrowby,  last  night.' 


ROSABEL  191 

'  Then  everybody  has  noticed  already,  and  it  is 
not  my  fancy !' 

'  She  is  a  little  animal,  that  is  the  fact  of 
the  matter !'  declared  Mrs.  Fairbourne  furiously. 
'  What  else  could  she  be  ?  It  is  in  the  blood.' 

He  turned  white  and  red  and  white  again. 

'  Why  did  you  make  me  send  for  her  ?'  she  asked. 

'  Why,  on  the  contrary,  did  you  ever  send  her 
away  ?' 

'  You  know  I  couldn't  help  it !' 

'  You  might  have  had  her  four  years  ago.  You 
didn't  want  her.' 

'  I  didn't.     What  then  ?' 

'  The  girl  has  been  shamefully  neglected.  In 
spite  of  it  she  is  wonderful.' 

'  Oh,  ah  !  I  thought  you  were  finding  fault  with 
her  a  moment  ago  !' 

'  No ;  I  only  suggested  that  youth  and  inexperience 
was  entitled  to  advice  from  experience  and  age.' 

She  flushed.  Then  she  looked  in  his  eyes,  and 
her  anger  was  frightened  away  by  his.  A  thrill 
ran  down  her  spine.  She  turned  cold. 

An  awful  silence  fell.  The  ring  of  the  hoofs  on 
the  hard  road  seemed  to  her  scarcely  loud  enough 
to  cover  the  beating  of  her  heart. 

She  began  to  choke.  When  she  dared  to  speak 
at  last  her  voice  quivered  with  mortification  and 
nervousness  and  anguish  at  her  enforced  humility. 

'  I  didn't  know  you  had  such  a  temper  !' 


ROSABEL 

He  remained  silent. 

*  I  am  quite  frightened  !' 

*  Indeed  !'     He  was  sardonically  polite. 

*  I  shall  cry  in  a  moment,'  she  said.     '  Oh,  Alec, 
we  have  been  such  good  friends !     You  can't  wish 
to  quarrel  with  me  ?' 

*  There  is  nothing  I  desire  less.' 

*  Then  don't  cut  your  words  with  a  razor — and 
call  me  by  my  name  !' 

*  If  you  like — Amy.' 

'  Now  you  are  your  old  dear  self  again  !' 
He  denied  it  mentally.  But  she  declined  to 
perceive  his  lukewarmness,  deceived  herself  with 
insincere  jubilation,  as  she  would  deceive  him, 
shifted  the  reins  to  pat  him  on  the  arm  with  a 
fluttering,  caressing  glove. 

*  It  is  annoying  to  be  bullied  when  one  is  doing 
one's  best,'  she  added.     -  I  have  spoken  to  Rosabel. 
Of  course  I  shall  look  after  her.' 

*  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.' 

'  So  we  can  talk  about  something  else.  Your 
twelve  hundred  pounds,  for  instance.  I  have  a 
cheque  for  you  in  my  pocket.' 

'  No  hurry,  you  know.' 

'  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  so  pleasant  as 
to  be  able  to  discharge  one's  debts.  I  am  quite 
flourishing  now,  and  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you. 
If  I  can  be  of  use  at  any  time,  please — please  do  say.' 

'  Impossible,'  he  said. 


ROSABEL  193 

'  Do  you  mean  that  you  could  never  want  money, 
or  that  you  would  not  tell  me  if  you  did  ?' 

'  Both.' 

'  You  wouldn't  give  me  the  pleasure  of  doing 
anything  for  you  !  It  is  always  the  way.  Men 
can  do  without  women — but  women  cannot  do 
without  men.' 

'  The  proposition  is  not  self-evident,'  he  said, 
'  and  your  sex  is  not  usually  so  humble.' 

Her  eyes  filled  without  any  effort.  Despite  the 
fact,  she  knew  very  well  what  she  was  doing.  Now 
if  ever  was  the  time  to  reclaim  him. 

'  I  see  that  you  have  not  forgiven  me  yet,'  she 
said,  '  and  that  whatever  I  say  will  be  wrong.  I 
have  dared  to  disparage  Rosabel,  who  you  have 
taken  under  your  protection.  One  would  think 
you  were  the  jealous  parent,  and  /  the  stranger.' 

'  The  disparity  between  a  girl  of  nineteen  and  a 
man  of  thirty-two  is  scarcely  so  great,'  he  replied 
with  annoyance.  '  I  do  not  think  the  idea  would 
suggest  itself  to  everyone.' 

'  Since  when  have  you  begun  to  interpret  me 
literally  ?'  She  bit  her  lips  ;  the  subject  was  a 
sore  one.  '  Of  course,  I  mean  that  you  seem  to 
think  it  necessary  to  protect  her  against  me  !  As 
though,  in  spite  of  my  talk,  I  hadn't  her  interests 
deeper  at  heart  than  you  can  have.  You  give  me 
credit  for  no  feeling  at  all !' 

13 


194  ROSABEL 

'  You  should  not  turn  a  corner  so  sharply,'  he 
said.  '  The  cart  was  on  one  wheel.' 

'  There  are  moments,'  she  said,  '  when  I  hate  you 
— and  this  is  one  of  them  !' 

She  permitted  a  big  tear  to  brim  over  and  run 
down  without  averting  her  face.  He  could  not  help 
seeing  it. 

'  What  have  I  done  ?'  he  asked  quietly,  after  an 
interval. 

'  You  have  hurt  me.' 

'  I  am  sorry.' 

'  We  were  friends  before  you  heard  of  her.  Say 
she  shall  not  come  between  us,  Alec  !' 

He  felt  warm.  Now  was  his  opportunity  to 
speak  out  and  clear  the  sulphurous  atmosphere. 
But  she  was  crying,  and  he  still  had  some  feeling 
for  her — the  sentiment,  half  pity,  which  lingers  with 
a  good-natured  man  after  his  fancy  for  a  woman 
who  likes  him  is  passed,  and  his  conscience  was  not 
quite  at  ease. 

While  he  was  hesitating  a  motor  overtook  them, 
and,  passing  rapidly,  startled  the  mare,  which 
began  to  rear  and  back.  There  was  a  pretty  deep 
ditch  behind  them. 

'  Give  me  the  reins,'  said  Aylmer,  '  and  sit  still.' 

She  had  nerve  enough  to  obey,  but  the  dog-cart 
overturned  at  the  same  moment. 

Aylmer  disentangled  himself*  and  seized  the 
plunging  mare  by  the  head.  One  of  the  shafts 


ROSABEL 


195 


was  broken.  He  unfastened  the  traces  with  some 
difficulty,  and  tied  the  animal  to  a  gate.  Then  he 
turned  to  look  for  Mrs.  Fairbourne. 

She  had  pitched  clear,  and  was  sitting  on  a  grassy 
bank,  very  white,  but  self-controlled. 

'  Are  you  hurt  ?'  he  asked  anxiously. 

'  I  don't  think  there  are  any  bones  broken,'  she 
replied,  '  but  I  am  bruised,  and  the  teeth  were  nearly 
shaken  out  of  my  head.'  Then  the  woman  who 
loved  him  cried  out :  *  There  is  blood  upon  your 
cheek !' 

*  It  is  nothing  at  all,'  he  said.     '  A  mere  scratch.' 

'  You  are  hurt,'  she  persisted,  '  and  you  won't 
tell  me !' 

'  I  assure  you  that  it  is  nothing.' 

*  I  hate  the  sight  of  blood,'  she  said,  '  and — and 
it's  been  such  a  shock.' 

To  his  horror  she  fainted  on  the  roadside. 

Here  was  a  predicament !  He  could  not  leave 
her  alone,  and  he  could  not  procure  assistance 
otherwise. 

His  attitude  of  concern  over  her  tumbled  finery 
was  quite  lover-like.  He  was  a  man,  so  he  wondered 
if  she  were  dead,  and  if  he  would  ever  forgive  him- 
self, in  that  case,  for  his  coldness  and  sarcasm  and 
harsh  thoughts.  It  seemed  that  she  really  loved 
him,  poor  thing  ! 

'  Amy,'  he  murmured,  touching  her,  '  for  God's 
sake  !' 

13—2 


196  ROSABEL 

Not  even  the  flutter  of  an  eyelid  rewarded  his 
appeal  until  quite  an  intolerable  period  had 
passed,  then  she  opened  her  eyes,  and  sought  his 
hand. 

*  You  might  have  been  killed,'  she  murmured. 
'  My  heart  stood  still.  Kiss  me  !' 

She  offered  him  her  lips. 

He  stooped  automatically,  came  within  a  hair's 
breadth  of  self-betrayal.  If  he  kissed  her,  Rosabel's 
mother.  .  ...  It  was  impossible !  There  had  been 
nothing  like  that  between  them  so  far,  and  he  could 
not  forego  his  chance  with  the  girl.  Why  should 
he? 

Wheels  approached.  A  pony-chaise  was  in  sight. 
For  the  second  time  that  afternoon  he  was  released 
from  a  painful  predicament.  An  elderly  gentleman 
in  a  clerical  hat  and  tie  occupied  the  pony-chaise, 
and  reined  in  abreast  of  them. 

'Dear  me!'  he  said,  'I  am  afraid  you  have  had 
an  accident !  I  hope  sincerely  that  the  lady  is 
unhurt  ?' 

'  No  serious  damage  done,'  replied  Aylmer,  with 
the  cheerfulness  of  the  man  who  is  grateful  to 
Providence.  '  But  I  don't  quite  know  what  to 
do.  We  are  staying  at  The  Hermitage,  and  Mrs. 
Fairbourne  is  unable  to  walk ' 

'  Allow  me  the  pleasure  of  assisting  you,'  said  the 
stranger.  '  I  am  the  Rev.  Horace  Walker,  Vicar 
of  St.  Helens.  I  know  The  Hermitage  very  well. 


ROSABEL  197 

If  your  friend — Mrs.  Fairbourne,  I  believe  you  said  ? 
— will  trust  herself  to  my  staid  old  pony ' — the 
worthy  vicar  beamed  on  them  through  glasses — 
*  I  shall  be  delighted  to  convey  you  both  home.' 

'  Thanks.  I  must  remain  with  the  horse  and  trapi 
but  if  you  would  give  Mrs.  Fairbourne  a  lift  I  should 
be  grateful.' 

'  Why  not  come  with  us  ?'  she  asked.  *  You  are 
hurt  more  than  I  am.  Mr.  Walker  would  be  kind 
enough,  perhaps,  to  allow  you  to  tie  that  stupid 
beast  on  behind.  The  dog-cart  will  be  all  right  in 
the  ditch.' 

'  I  am  afraid  the  mare's  knees  are  cut,  and  she 
must  be  led  slowly,'  replied  Aylmer.  '  I  must 
take  a  little  care  of  poor  Harrowby's  property. 
It  would  be  better,  I  think,  if  you  went  on  alone 
with  Mr.  Walker.' 

She  was  too  shaky  to  argue.  He  helped  her  to 
the  pony-chaise.  She  leaned  heavily  on  his  arm. 

'  Mr.  Walker  will  take  care  of  you,  I  am  sure,' 
he  said.  *  You'll  recover  directly.' 

*  I — I  was  so  upset,'  she  murmured.  Deep  colour 
suffused  her  face. 

'  Of  course,'  murmured  Aylmer  soothingly.  *  But 
you  have  a  lot  of  pluck.' 

Between  the  platitudes  with  which  the  good 
vicar  regaled  her,  she  pondered  these  phrases. 

'  But  you  have  a  lot  of  pluck.  .  .  .  You'll  recover 
directly.' 


198  ROSABEL 

They  were  capable  of  two  interpretations.  Other 
signs  were  as  ambiguous.  If  he  had  been  very 
eager  he  might  have  risked  the  kiss  in  defiance 
of  the  approaching  pony-chaise ;  on  the  other 
hand,  he  hated  to  be  ridiculous. 

'  You'll  recover  directly.' 

'  Shall  I  ?'  she  wondered.     '  Shall  I  ?' 

A  chestnut-leaf,  already  sere  and  yellow,  rustled 
to  her  lap  from  an  overhanging  bough.  She  looked 
at  it  with  eyes  startled  by  a  horrible  suggestion. 
But  the  summer  of  her  life  was  not  over.  She  was 
not  getting  old  yet — not  yet.  He  could  not  have 
been  brutal  enough  to  mean  that  time,  age,  which 
dulls  the  senses,  blunts  the  passions,  soothes  alike 
craving  and  regret,  was  to  be  her  cure  ?  He  must 
be  fond  of  her.  They  had  been  together  so  much, 
and  he  had  always  seemed  pleased. 

She  tossed  the  leaf  away. 

The  vicar  saw  her. 

'  Ah,  the  autumn  is  coming,'  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XX 

AYLMER  descended  to  dinner  with  a  patch  of 
sticking-plaster  on  his  cheek  which  the  women 
found  becoming.  Mrs.  Fairbourne  did  not  put  in 
an  appearance  at  all.  It  was  understood  that  she 
had  been  seriously  shaken,  and  could  not  remember 
what  had  happened  between  the  upsetting  of  the 
dog-cart  and  the  arrival  of  the  pony-chaise.  The 
vicar,  who  had  been  invited  to  remain,  gave  a  thrill- 
ing narrative  of  the  scene  of  disaster  and  the 
fainting  lady  by  the  roadside.  Aylmer  ate  his 
dinner  solemnly,  speechless.  He  was  wondering 
how  she  would  sleep  to-night,  and  how  she  would 
meet  him  to-morrow  with  the  memory  of  that 
unrewarded  abasement  between  them.  He  was 
sorry  for  her.  He  would  have  liked  to  send  her 
word  that  she  could  put  what  had  happened  out 
of  her  mind  for  ever,  as  he  would,  but  even  to  allude 
to  it  would  aggravate  the  wound. 

Was  it  a  sort  of  pity  for  the  mother  which  kept 
him  away  from  the  daughter  that  evening  ?  Had 
Amy  been  present,  he  would  have  shown  her  no 

199 


200  ROSABEL 

such  consideration  lest  it  should  be  misunderstood. 
But  her  absence  inspired  him  with  the  reluctance 
a  man  might  feel  at  making  love  to  a  new  sweet- 
heart over  the  grave  of  the  old.  If  it  had  not  been 
that  he  would  not  leave  Rosabel,  he  would  have 
arranged  to  be  recalled  to  London  in  the  morning. 
Nevertheless,  his  concern  on  the  lady's  behalf  did 
not  spoil  his  sleep,  while  she  lay  awake  half  the  night. 

Had  she  lost  him  irretrievably  ?  It  looked  like  it. 
But  she  was  resolved  that  he  should  not  have  Rosabel. 

'  Never — never  while  I  live/  she  muttered 
incoherently.  *  His  mother-in-law !  It  would  be 
the  nightmare  of  a  French  farce  !' 

Where  a  vacuum  had  represented  maternal  love 
in  her  breast  the  hatred  of  jealousy  now  reigned. 
Rosabel  was  an  incubus — a  parasite  sucking  her 
youth  from  her,  making  her  ridiculous.  Every 
time  people  looked  at  this  great,  fully-developed 
girl  they  must  remember  that  she  was  the  daughter 
of  a  woman  who  still  wished  to  be  attractive  and 
desired.  She  could  not  even  take  a  year  off  her 
age,  while  other  women  older  than  herself  were 
posing  as  her  juniors.  Thirty-seven  !  Why,  she 
must  seem  middle-aged  to  a  man  of  thirty-two! 
His  first  recession  might  date  from  the  day  he 
realized  it.  And  he  might  even  suspect  that  she 
was  more  than  she  said. 

'  But  he  shall  not  marry  Rosabel,'  she  told  herself 
again  and  again.  '  He  shall  not  marry  Rosabel. 


ROSABEL  201 

Fortunately,  she  does  not  seem  to  be  thinking  about 
him,  although  I  fancied  at  one  time.  .  .  .  This 
Braithwaite  seems  to  be  absorbing  her.  What  a 
pity  nothing  can  come  of  it !' 

She  held  her  breath  for  a  moment.  Could  nothing 
come  of  it  ?  Experience  told  her  that  it  was  un- 
usual, after  all,  for  a  girl  to  fall  in  love  with  a 
married  man  ;  girls  were  always  too  anxious  to  get 
married  themselves.  Probably  it  was  Rosabel's 
vanity  alone  which  was  touched,  and  she  would 
forget  Braithwaite  a  fortnight  after  the  party  dis- 
persed. But  meanwhile — she  was  foolish,  and 
Aylmer  fastidious.  Already  he  was  on  the  watch, 
and  annoyed.  If  he  became  disgusted  with  the 
natural  woman  he  had  lauded — namely,  Rosabel — 
there  might  be  a  reaction  in  favour  of  civilization 
and  herself  ?  At  any  rate,  the  situation  was  worthy 
of  judicious  treatment.  The  role  of  careful  mother 
was  hers  of  necessity,  but  could  it  not  be  played 
in  a  manner  to  uphold  her  credit  without  injuring 
her  interests  ?  She  reckoned  upon  opposition 
spurring  Rosabel's  obstinacy  to  greater  lengths,  and 
perhaps  did  not  reckon  in  vain. 

When  she  confronted  Aylmer  once  more  her 
manner  was  admirable. 

'  I  am  afraid  I  made  a  fool  of  myself  yesterday,' 
she  said,  with  an  air  of  candour  which  deceived  the 
audience  at  least.  '  Did  I  burst  into  tears  and 
throw  my  arms  round  your  neck  ?' 


202 


ROSABEL 


*  Scarcely,'  he  said,  smiling.     '  You  were  a  little 
upset,  that  is  all.' 

'  My  nerves  used  to  be  splendid.'  she  murmured. 
'  I  don't  know  what  has  happened  to  them 
lately.' 

During  the  ensuing  week  things  seemed  to  drift 
without  violent  shocks.  Mrs.  Fairbourne  sought 
Aylmer  furtively  but  diligently,  while  Aylmer 
sought  Rosabel  in  vain.  Braithwaite  was  the 
only  one  who  seemed  to  score.  He  monopolized 
Rosabel  without  an  effort  of  resistance  on  her 
part.  Indoors  and  out,  in  their  walks  and  drives 
and  picnics,  it  was  these  two  who  were  always 
together. 

'  One  would  think  that  you  and  Mr.  Braithwaite 
were  engaged,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne  to  her  daughter 
once.  *  What  do  you  find  to  say  to  him  ?' 

'  Oh,  we  talk  about  all  sorts  of  things,'  said 
Rosabel  serenely. 

'  But  chiefly  about  him  ?' 

'  Yes,  he  likes  to  talk  about  himself.' 

*  You  remember  what  I  said  to  you  in  your  bed- 
room that  night  ?' 

Rosabel  nodded. 

'  I  might  have  supposed  that  you  had  forgotten 
already.  But  I  never  expect  you  to  obey  me.  I 
have  a  good  mind  to  send  you  home  to-morrow.' 

She  had  no  intention  of  doing  anything  of  the 
sort.  It  was  only  the  preliminary  move  in  the 


ROSABEL  203 

new  scheme,  which  was  to  exhibit  Rosabel  at  her 
worst  to  Aylmer's  watchful  eyes. 

In  many  subtle  ways  the  woman  played  her  hand 
against  the  girl,  each  in  ignorance  of  the  other's 
purpose. 

It  was  the  mother's  reprimand,  as  often  as  not, 
which  drew  attention  to  some  favour  shown  to 
Braithwaite  by  Rosabel.  It  was  Mrs.  Fairbourne's 
visible  annoyance  which  accentuated  the  existence 
of  this  undesirable  intimacy  between  her  daughter 
and  this  man.  While  seeming  to  restrain,  she 
sought,  needlessly,  as  it  happened,  to  urge.  Each 
pained  smile,  or  angry  glance,  or  maternal  rebuke 
she  administered  before  others  emphasized  the 
gravity  of  her  displeasure  and  its  cause,  and  called 
down  judgment  on  the  defiant  Rosabel. 

Aylmer,  watching  the  girl  with  jealous  affection< 
became  more  and  more  perplexed.  He  had  really 
given  her  credit  for  common-sense,  high  ideals,  far 
deeper  feelings  than  any  of  these  women  were 
capable  of,  although  they  were  articulate,  having 
a  thousand  words  for  every  borrowed  idea  and 
sentiment,  and  she  was  half  dumb,  feeling  the  more 
that  her  emotions  were  hidden  in  the  grave  which 
her  rage  with  life  had  dug. 

The  girl  who  had  talked  to  him  in  the  moonlight 
by  the  sea,  gasping  out  her  soul — and  Braith- 
waite ! 

His  self-control  had  never  been  shaken  so  vio- 


204 


ROSABEL 


lently.  That  he  kept  it  at  all  proved  the  utility 
of  habit.  At  times  he  came  near  to  hating  her— 
the  insult  it  was  to  him,  eligible,  to  be  passed  over 
for  this  cad  !  There  must  be  an  explanation.  She 
could  not  be  so  stupid,  vulgar-minded.  He  could 
not  be  deceived. 

So  he  raged  and  questioned  alternately,  but  never 
gave  her  up  or  ceased  to  watch.  She  was  possessed 
by  a  temporary  infatuation  which  would  pass.  He 
would  draw  her  to  him  still.  These  were  the  decisions 
of  hopeful  moments.  In  despondency  anger  was  his 
chief  passion,  and  he  felt  that  she  had  already  raised 
a  barrier  between  them  which  could  not  be  thrown 
down.  Even  if  she  were  her  old  self  again  next 
week,  would  his  pride  be  able  to  forget  the  tem- 
porary defeat  which  had  humbled  him  ?  He  pon- 
dered the  question  a  whole  morning,  and  after  all 
it  was  a  chance  glance  from  the  girl's  eyes  which 
answered  it.  She  had  a  puppy  in  her  arms,  and 
seemed  spontaneous  at  the  moment,  as  though  the 
restraint  she  had  placed  upon  herself  were  forgotten 
in  a  bubbling  gush  of  youth. 

*  Isn't  he  a  dear  !' 

*  You  love  animals  ?'  he  asked. 

*  Yes,'  she  said.     '  If  they  once  love  you,  they 
love   you   always.     They   don't   have   whims   and 
moods,  as  people  do.' 

'  As  you  do,  for  instance,  Rosabel !' 
'  I  am  always  the  same,  too,'  she  said. 


ROSABEL  205 

'  I  deny  that !' 

*  I  care  for  people  who  care  for  me.' 

"  Care  "  is  a  word  of  wide  significance.  There 
are  twenty  different  ways  of  caring,  and  not  all  of 
them  are  good.' 

'  I  know  that.'  She  held  the  puppy's  soft  warm 
coat  against  her  cheek.  '  One  may  hate,  for  instance. 
That's  "  caring."  ' 

'  And  love  foolishly.' 

Rosabel  was  silent. 

'  Or  sinfully,'  he  added. 

She  gave  him  a  curious  longing  look.  Her  lips 
opened,  but  after  all  she  did  not  speak. 

It  was  that  look  which  turned  the  scale  in  her 
favour  once  more,  and  told  him  that  he  would 
always  want  her,  and  be  ready  to  forgive  and  forgive 
again. 

Nevertheless,  that  very  evening  they  nearly 
quarrelled.  She  would  go  out  of  doors  after  dinner 
with  Braithwaite,  although  her  mother  had  bidden 
her  remain  in  the  house,  and  Aylmer  came  upon 
them  suddenly  in  the  garden.  He  could  have 
sworn  that  Braithwaite's  arm  was  round  her  waist 
before  they  saw  him.  It  was  intolerable.  He 
could  scarcely  command  his  voice  as  he  addressed 
her. 

*  Your  mother  sent  me  to  find  you,  Rosabel.' 

*  What  does  she  want  ?'  asked  the  girl  indiffer- 
ently. 


206  ROSABEL 

'  You  are  to  go  in  at  once.'  His  own  anger  spoke 
in  the  imperious  command. 

'  But  it  is  pleasant  out  here,'  she  said.  '  I  don't 
care  to  go  in.' 

*  Am  I  to  tell  her  that  you  will  not  come  ?' 
Braithwaite  intervened  with  characteristic  cool- 
ness. 

*  Oh,  say  you  couldn't  find  us  !' 

*  Thank    you ;  I    was    speaking    to    Miss    Fair- 
bourne.' 

*  Rosabel  doesn't  mind  me  answering  for  her,  do 
you,  Rosabel  ?' 

'  No,'  said  the  girl.  It  was  dark,  and  Aylmer 
could  only  see  a  pale  blur  representing  the  face 
which  she  turned  towards  him.  '  I  am  not  coming 
yet,'  she  added  deliberately.  *  It  isn't  bedtime,  and 
it's  hot  in  the  house.' 

He  could  find  nothing  more  to  say,  and  they  were 
waiting  for  him  to  go. 

A  boyish  impulse  to  catch  Braithwaite  by  the 
throat  twitched  his  fingers.  On  reflection  maturer 
counsel  prevailed,  and  he  would  have  liked  to  shake 
Rosabel.  Oh,  how  he  would  have  liked  it !  Even 
to  box  her  ears.  He  said,  '  Minx !'  under  his  breath 
as  he  strolled  away,  and  then  his  ears,  straining 
despite  himself,  caught  a  low-spoken  phrase  from 
the  girl,  followed  by  a  laugh  from  the  man. 

'  Of  course,  mother  sent  him.' 

*  You'll  get  into  a  row,  won't  you  ?'     r~ 


ROSABEL  207 

*  I  don't  care.' 

The  voices  became  inaudible  to  Aylmer.  Why 
had  he  listened  ?  He  despised  his  own  paltriness, 
and  would  have  given  a  year  of  his  life  to  hear 
more. 

'  In  the  next  stage  of  fatuity  I  shall  be  peeping 
through  keyholes  and  listening  at  doors!'  he  thought. 
'  One  grows  demoralized.' 

He  meant  to  convey  Rosabel's  defiance  to  her 
mother  verbatim,  but  softened  it  mechanically 
when  he  reached  the  house. 

'  She  will  be  in  presently.' 

'  I  said  "  at  once  !"  ' 

*  Mr.    Braithwaite    has    forgotten    his    game    of 
bridge,'    murmured   Mrs.    Harrowby  in  her  sweet, 
low,  languid,  affected  voice.     *  He  doesn't  seem  to 
care  as  much  about  it  as  he  used  to  do.' 

She  said  one  thing,  and  called  attention  to 
another.  Everybody  was  silent  after  she  had 
spoken,  thinking,  and  glances  passed  between  the 
Gledhows. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  rose  in  apparent  vexation. 

'  Rosabel  will  be  worn  out,'  she  said.  '  She  has 
been  on  her  feet  all  day.  I  must  really  insist  upon 
her  coming  in  at  once.  Why  will  girls  always  over- 
do everything  ?' 

'  Shall  I  help  you  to  find  her  ?'  asked  Aylmer. 

'  Yes,  do.' 

She  twisted  a  scarf  over  her  bare  shoulders  as  she 


208  ROSABEL 

emerged  from  the  house,  and  raised  her  face  to  look 
at  the  stars. 

'  So  fine  a  night,'  she  said — '  so  peaceful,  and  yet 
I  am  all  uncharitableness  !  Rosabel  is  really  too 
bad.  The  little  hussy !  what  does  she  mean  by  it  ?* 

'  That  is  what  I  want  to  know,'  said  the  man 
between  his  teeth. 

She  laughed  softly,  allowing  her  eyes  to  sink  from 
the  dark,  freckled  sky  to  his  face. 

'  So  you  are  getting  angry,  too  ! 

*  Not  seriously — superficially.     The  whole  thing's 
too  trivial.    I  confess  I  can't  understand.  .  .  .    What 
girl  in  her  senses  could — could ' 

'  Why  not  ?'  she  asked  slightingly.  '  She's  a 
little  animal,  and  naturally  responds  to  the  male 
animal,  that  is  all.  I  told  you  that  you  took  her 
too  seriously.' 

'  I  think  I  have  heard  you  say  that  before,  or 
something  like  it,'  he  said  in  a  low  tone.  '  It  is 
harsh.' 

'  I  have  made  a  study  of  Rosabel  as  well  as  you 
have,  and — women  always  find  each  other  out.' 

*  I  believe  she  understands  you.1 

'  Does  she  ?'  He  knew  she  glanced  at  him,  but 
was  baffled  by  the  night.  '  Why  do  you  think  so  ?' 

'  She  has  said  things.' 

'  Tell  me,'  she  said  inquisitively. 

'  No !  We  were  talking  about  Rosabel.  What 
are  you  going  to  say  to  her  ?' 


ROSABEL  209 

*  Can  you  not  leave  that  to  me  ?     A  hint  is  no 
use.     One  must  use  a  sledge-hammer  with  Rosabel. 
Why  didn't  she  obey  me  ?' 

He  hung  back  with  an  impulse  of  cowardice  when 
they  found  the  girl  and  Braithwaite.  But  Rosabel 
deserved  a  scolding.  He  would  not  defend  her 
to-night. 

'  I  sent  for  you,  Rosabel,'  said  her  mother.  '  Why 
did  you  not  come  at  once  instead  of  giving  me  the 
trouble  of  fetching  you  ?' 

*  I    told    Mr.    Aylmer    that    I    didn't    wish    to 
come.' 

'  Did  you  ?  Most  impertinent !  Don't  keep  me 
waiting,  please.' 

'  Why  do  you  want  me,  mother  ?' 

*  I  decline  to  be  questioned,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne 
sharply.     *  I  sent  for  you  ;  that  is  enough.' 

*  Your  little  girl  isn't  such  a  very  little  girl,  you 
know,  Mrs.  Fairbourne,'  said  Braithwaite,  '  and  we 
are  feeling  so  happy  outside.' 

'  I  regret  to  disturb  your  felicity,'  she  retorted 
sarcastically.  *  Come,  Rosabel.' 

The  girl  turned  with  open  reluctance  to  accom- 
pany her  mother.  Braithwaite  lingered  to  light  a 
cigarette,  and  Aylmer,  not  choosing  to  wait  for  him, 
followed  the  women  to  the  house. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne's  voice,  low  and  bitter,  appeared 
to  take  no  heed  of  him.  In  reality,  her  words  were 
intended  more  for  his  ears  than  for  Rosabel's. 

14 


210  ROSABEL 

'  You  don't  know  how  to  behave,'  she  said.  *  If 
you  must  be  a  barmaid,  you  shall  go  back  to  the 
Angler's  Inn.  I  won't  have  you  disgracing  yourself 
and  me  before  my  friends.  Everybody  is  getting 
disgusted  with  you.' 

Rosabel  made  no  reply. 

'  I  wish  to  God  that  you'd  answer  when  I 
speak  to  you !'  cried  her  mother,  in  a  gust  of 
genuine  passion.  '  Your  behaviour  this  evening  has 
been  insufferable — insufferable  !  Are  you  going  to 
apologize  ?' 

'  No,'  said  Rosabel  bluntly. 

'  Rosabel,  Rosabel !'  murmured  Aylmer. 

They  had  reached  the  light  which  streamed  out  of 
the  house,  and  paused  to  look  at  each  other  before 
entering.  The  girl  met  him  with  red  face,  and  eyes 
strangely  bright  and  fierce. 

'  Don't  go  away  for  a  moment,  Mrs.  Fairbourne,' 
he  begged.  '  This  is  most  regrettable.  Rosabel,  I 
am  sure  you  are  sorry  on  second  thoughts.' 

'  I'm  not !'  declared  the  girl,  with  a  hysterical 
gulp,  which  was  unlike  her  ;  and  she  ran  into  the 
house  and  upstairs. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  laughed  faintly.  She  was  re- 
covering herself,  and  might  have  been  a  little 
pleased  at  his  futile  interference. 

'  You  see !  She  has  as  little  respect  for  you  as 
for  me,  my  friend  !' 

*  Why  should  she  have  any  ?'  he  asked,  with  a 


ROSABEL  211 

great  effort  of  justice.  '  I  have  no  authority  over 
her,  after  all.' 

'  But  I  am  her  mother.' 

'  Ah,  you  reminded  her  of  it  so  late,'  he  said  softly. 
*  You  said  yourself  that  the  proper  feeling  between 
you  could  not  be  born  full-grown.  Have  patience. 
I  am  sure  she  has  a  heart.  If  you  can  convince  her 
that  you  love  her,  she  will  worship  the  ground  under 
your  feet.' 

She  wished  to  answer  that  she  neither  desired 
Rosabel's  affection  nor  had  any  to  offer  as  a  bait, 
but  felt  that  it  would  be  unwise  to  say  so. 

Meanwhile,  Rosabel  locked  her  bedroom  door 
after  her  as  though  she  were  pursued,  and  sank 
panting  on  the  edge  of  her  bed. 

'  I'm  disgracing  her  before  her  friends.  Every- 
body is  getting  disgusted  with  me !'  repeated  the 
girl  aloud.  '  And  she  is  frightened — frightened  !' 

A  feverish  exultation  animated  her.  She  did 
not  like  Maurice  Braithwaite  any  better  to-day 
than  she  had  ever  liked  him.  But  her  mother  was 
becoming  uneasy.  Already  there  was  a  foretaste 
of  revenge  in  her  mouth — revenge  sweeter  than 
sweets  had  ever  been  to  the  child  whose  rich  nature 
had  been  allowed  to  run  wild.  Not  that  she  was 
happyi  for  real  happiness  can  only  exist  with  peace 
of  mind.  She  was  triumphant,  that  was  all.  Her 
head  swam  in  the  vertigo  of  moral  intoxication. 

She  thought  of  her  mother,  and  then  of  Aylmerj 

14 — 2 


ROSABEL 

and  again  of  her  mother.  The  man's  eyes  haunted 
her  with  a  reproach  which  brought  a  little  pain  to 
her  heart. 

But  she  was  glad  she  had  defied  him.  He  would 
no  longer  pester  her  with  advances  she  did  not 
choose  to  welcome,  patronize  her  for  her  mother's 
sake.  No  true  friendship  could  ever  exist  between 
them.  He  belonged  to  the  other  side. 

At  the  moment  she  was  glad  that  she  had  nobody. 
She  derived  a  fierce  joy  from  the  fact  that  she  was 
alone — alone,  quite  alone,  that  there  was  not  a  soul 
who  had  any  right  to  her  loyalty  and  affection.  Like 
an  eaglet  perched  on  a  mountain  crag,  she  looked 
down  on  humanity,  and  hated  it.  She  would  not 
have  given  up  her  isolation  in  this  mood  ;  there  was 
something  tragic  in  it,  which  appealed  to  her  uncon- 
scious craving  for  romance.  It  was  something,  after 
all,  to  be  quite  different  from  other  girls.  It  was 
something  to  feel  that  her  life  was  in  her  own  hands 
to  be  disposed  of  as  she  chose.  It  was  picturesque 
and  splendid,  if  sad,  to  be  situated  as  she  was 
towards  her  mother  and  her  mother's  class.  She 
had  been  wronged,  but  she  was  going  to  be  re- 
venged. 

Her  eyes  darkened,  and  she  sat  brooding,  brood- 
ing, and  staring  dimly  at  the  light. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THERE  was  a  willow  by  the  stream,  weeping  for  the 
sins  and  sorrows  of  men.  Beside  the  willow  was  a 
grassy  bank  fringed  with  rushes,  which  in  their  turn 
were  bordered  by  water-lilies.  Sometimes  a  king- 
fisher was  to  be  seen  skimming  the  water  in  chase 
of  a  fly,  or  perching  on  a  bough  of  the  aspen  oppo- 
site. The  picturesqueness  was  almost  oppressive, 
in  fact. 

Rosabel  had  not  reached  that  stage  of  artistic 
culture  which  finds  a  '  subject '  deplorable.  She 
thought  the  neighbourhood  of  the  willow  lovely, 
and  often  paid  it  a  visit.  Sometimes  Braithwaite 
came,  too.  He  joined  her  there  this  afternoon. 

'  I  couldn't  get  away  sooner,'  he  explained. 
'  Harrowby  would  make  me  look  at  that  confounded 
sick  terrier  of  his.' 

'  It  doesn't  matter,'  said  Rosabel. 

'  Our  last  day  at  The  Hermitage,  Rosabel !'  He 
sat  down  beside  her,  and  took  her  hand  as  a  matter 
of  course.  '  You  will  be  sorry  to  go  ?'  he  asked. 

'  Not  particularly.' 

213 


214  ROSABEL 

*  How  disconcerting  you  are  !     Do  say  you'll  be 
sorry  !     You  must  like  me.' 

She  did  not  reply.  It  seemed  as  though  she 
could  not  tell  a  lie  to  further  any  scheme,  as  though 
her  revenge  must  fall  to  the  ground  even  at  this 
hour  if  it  depended  upon  lies. 

'  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  parting,  Rosabel.' 

He  put  his  arm  round  her.  She  made  no  resist- 
ance ;  it  was  not  the  first  time. 

'  When  shall  I  see  you  again  ?' 

'  I  don't  know,'  murmured  the  girl,  '  if  you 
don't.' 

'  I  wish  you  hadn't  gone  to  live  with  your  mother. 
I  wish  you  were  still  at  the  Angler's  Inn.' 

'  Why  ?  What  difference  would  it  make  to 
you  ?' 

'  Lots.  You  are  a  young  lady  now.  What  a 
damned  fool  I  was !'  He  checked  himself.  '  I'm 
awfully  fond  of  you,'  he  said.  '  No  nonsense,  you 
know !' 

;    Rosabel  was   watching   a   moorhen   among   the 
reeds. 

*  I   ought    to   have    taken    more    trouble.     You 
must  have  wanted  to  get  away  from  it.     You  had 
nothing  then,  you  were  nothing.' 

'  I  am  just  the  same — only  Rosabel,'  she  said  with 
peculiar  emphasis. 

He  did  not  heed  ;  his  own  thoughts  were  clamour- 
ing too  loud. 


ROSABEL  215 

c  What  a  good  time  we  might  have  had  !  And 
you  are  not  happy  with  your  mother.  You  don't 
care  for  her,  and  she  doesn't  care  for  you.  We 
might  have  had  a  jolly  trip  to  Paris.' 

'  I'd  like  to  go  to  Paris,'  said  Rosabel. 

He  looked  at  her,  flushing. 

'  You  could  still  go— if  you  had  the  pluck,'  he 
said  in  a  low  tone. 

'  Could  I  ?' 

'  You  know  how  delighted  I  should  be  to  take 
you.' 

His  bluntness  was  as  primitive  as  his  love.  She 
would  never  be  able  to  reproach  him  with  duplicity* 
at  any  rate. 

There  was  a  long  pause.  The  man's  hot  eyes 
dwelt  on  the  girl's  face  with  a  satyr-like  eagerness. 
The  tide  of  his  own  passion  caught  him^  swept  him 
off  his  feet.  He  kissed  her,  whispered  urgently  in 
her  car.  What  had  seemed  impossible  five  minutes 
ago  now  appeared  as  easy  as  it  was  desirable.  He 
had  meant  to  ask  her  when  he  begged  her  to  meet 
him  by  the  stream,  but  only  because  he  would  not 
throw  a  chance  away.  He  had  not  really  believed 
that  she  would  dare,  that  she  cared  enough.  There 
was  always  a  curious  coldness  about  her,  though 
she  was  never  offended  in  these  days  at  anything 
he  said.  And  he  had  said  a  good  deal,  short  of  this 
definite  proposal. 

He   did   not   understand  her  in   the  least.     He 


216  ROSABEL 

thought  it  was  maidenly  reluctance,  fear  of  the 
plunge  struggling  with  inclination,  which  made  her 
hesitate,  that  she  was  only  waiting  for  persuasion. 
As  though  anything  he  could  say  or  do  weighed  with 
her  in  the  least ! 

*  I  would  give  you  everything  you  wanted,'  he 
said.  '  You  should  have  the  best  time  with  me 
that  a  girl  could  have.  You've  never  really  en- 
joyed yourself.  I'd  show  you  life — real  life  !' 

It  was  probable  that  he  would. 

'  I  am  rich,'  he  added,  '  and  you  will  have  two 
thousand  a  year  when  your  mother  dies,  whether 
she  likes  it  or  not.  You  can't  come  to  grief,  and 
you  can't  throw  me  over  now.  You've  let  things 
go  too  far.  It  isn't  as  though  you  were  a  school- 
girl, and  didn't  know.  You  can't  be  so  innocent. 
You  must  have  seen  and  heard  something  at  the 
Angler's  Inn.' 

'  I'd  like  to  go  to  Paris,'  she  repeated,  musing, 
'  but  I'd  like  to  come  back  to  London  afterwards. 
Would  you  bring  me  back  to  London  ?' 

'  Yes.  You'd  meet  people  ;  but  I  don't  care  if 
you  don't.' 

*  Should  I  have  a  carriage,  so  that  I  could  drive 
in  the  Park  sometimes  ?'  . 

He  laughed. 

'  Dictating  your  terms,  are  you  ?' 

'  You  could  afford  it  ?'  she  asked  almost  anxi- 
ously. 


ROSABEL 


217 


'  You  should  have  a  carriage.  Would  you  really 
drive  in  the  Park  ?' 

'  Of  course.  What  would  be  the  use  of  having  it 
if  it  weren't  seen  ?  What  about  your  wife  ?'  she 
added. 

'  Oh,  we've  had  enough  of  each  other,'  he  said 
brutally.  *  She  can  hang  herself.' 

'  You'd  be  saying  that  to  me  some  day.' 

'  No,  I  shouldn't.  Adele  would  divorce  me — 
these  things  are  easily  managed  in  the  States — and 
I'd  marry  you.' 

'  You  wouldn't,'  said  Rosabel. 

'  I  would !  Good  Lord,  I'd  marry  you  to-morrow ! 
I'm  not  a  bad  fellow  ;  don't  be  afraid.' 

'  To-morrow,  perhaps ;  but  afterwards  ?  I  know.' 
She  looked  at  him  darkly.  '  You'd  break  my  heart 
if  I  loved  you  ;  but  I  don't,  so  it  doesn't  matter.' 

*  What !     Are  you  fooling  me,  after  all  ?' 

'  I'll  go  away  with  you,  if  you  like,'  said  Rosabel. 
'  But  I'm  not  going  to  tell  lies  about  it.' 

He  was  astounded. 

'  You  don't  love  me  ?' 

'  No,'  she  said,  breaking  off  a  twig  of  willow.  4  It 
doesn't  matter,  does  it  ?' 

'  By  God  !'  he  said  ;  '  you've  got  courage  !  I 
never  heard  anything  like  this.  If  you  don't  care 
for  me,  why  on  earth  do  you  want  to  go  away  ?' 

*  Because  I  hate  my  mother,'  she  said.     '  You've 
got  a  right  to  know,  as  you're  going  to  pay  for 


218  ROSABEL 

everything.  It  doesn't  make  any  difference  to 
you  ?' 

He  became  gloomy,  a  trifle  reproachful. 

'  I  am  disappointed.  You've  got  no  sentimentj 
Rosabel.' 

*  It  isn't,'  she  said,  '  as  though  you  were  going  to 
marry  me.' 

He  threw  himself  back  on  the  grass  suddenly  and 
laughed.  Her  candour  removed  the  slight  restraint 
which  his  '  delicacy '  had  imposed.  He  could  talk 
to  her  as  plainly  now  as  she  talked  to  him.  Perhaps 
it  was  more  comfortable. 

'  You  little  devil !'  he  said.  '  So  that  is  what 
you  have  had  in  your  head  !  I've  wondered  some- 
times. I  always  knew  you  were  different  from 
other  girls.  I'll  take  you ;  don't  be  uneasy.  And 
I'll  treat  you  fairly  from  first  to  last.  You  are 
being  straight  with  me,  and  I'll  be  straight  with 
you.' 

*  That's  settled^  then,'  said  Rosabel,  almost  with 
relief.     '  When  shall  we  go  ?' 

'  To-morrow,'  he  replied,  sitting  up. 

'  To-morrow !' 

'  Yes.     Unless  you  would  rather  wait  ?' 

'  It  doesn't  matter,'  said  the  girl. 

Her  voice  was  steady,  but  her  cheeks  were  flush  ed 
and  she  was  peeling  her  twig  of  willow  with  rapid 
nervous  fingers  which  could  not  keep  still. 

'  I  don't  see  the  use  of  wasting  time.'     He  was 


ROSABEL  219 

emphatic  on  that  point.  '  And  that  garden-party 
they  are  going  to  will  give  us  a  good  opportunity. 
I  shall  receive  a  telegram  in  the  morning  recalling 
me  to  London  on  business.  You  will  have  a  head- 
ache when  the  others  go  to  the  garden-party,  and 
stay  at  home.  As  soon  as  the  coast  is  clear, 
you  can  slip  off  and  catch  the  4.5  to  London. 
Understand  ?' 

She  nodded. 

'  I'll  meet  you  at  King's  Cross,  and  take  you  to 
my  chambers— I've  had  a  set  of  rooms  in  Piccadilly 
since  Adele  cleared  out — and  we'll  dine  early  and 
get  away  by  the  Continental  train  before  you  are 
even  missed.' 

'  I  don't  see  how  I  could  take  my  clothes  with 
me,'  she  said. 

'  Don't  try  ;  I'll  get  you  everything  you  want.' 
He  squeezed  her  arm.  '  Paris  is  a  hive ;  your 
mother  will  never  find  you.  And  I  shall  be  there. 
Nobody  shall  bully  you.' 

'  I  am  not  afraid,'  replied  Rosabel. 

Braithwaite  laughed.  The  girl's  fingers  were  still 
plucking  at  the  willow. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  her  purpose  must  be  written 
on  her  face  as  it  was  engrained  upon  her  heart,  and 
she  went  indoors  reluctantly.  Nobody  appeared  to 
remark  anything  amiss  with  her,  however,  and  as 
Braithwaite  was  always  gay  his  exaggerated  high 
spirits  were  not  noticeable. 


220  ROSABEL 

Only  Aylmer  came  up  to  her  after  dinner,  and 
looked  at  her  with  the  keen  eyes  of  affection. 

'  What  are  you  meditating  so  deeply,  fair  maid  ? 
"  A  deed  without  a  name,"  like  the  witches  in 
"Macbeth"?' 

She  raised  wide  startled  eyes  to  the  man's. 

'  Will  you  come  for  a  stroll  with  me  ?'  he  added. 

'  Mother  is  over  there,'  she  answered  brusquely. 
'  Ask  her  /' 

*  I  ask  you.'' 

Rosabel  hesitated.  She  was  pulled  two  ways. 
She  liked  to  be  with  him  better  than  with  anybody 
in  the  world.  But  what  was  the  use  of  encouraging 
herself  to  care  for  him  ?  Besides,  to-night  she  was 
afraid.  She  did  not  wish  to  talk  to  anyone. 

'  No.  I  am  waiting  for  Mr.  Braithwaite,'  she 
replied. 

Aylmer  flushed  like  a  boy.  He  was  really  show- 
ing a  phenomenal  patience,  and  meeting  with  no 
reward. 

If  he  had  given  in  to  pride,  he  would  have  turned 
on  his  heel  and  left  her  at  once  ;  but  she  was  even 
dearer  to  him  than  his  pride.  And  perhaps  his 
obstinacy — he  was  liberally  endowed  with  it- 
would  not  cede  the  palm  to  this  girl  of  nineteen. 
He  meant  to  win  her  yet.  So  he  kept  his  temper 
with  remarkable  self-control,  and  continued  to 
smile  quite  naturally  and  good-temperedly. 

'  You  are  really  very^rude,  Rosabel.     But  you 


ROSABEL  221 

can't  offend  me,  you  can't  shake  me  off.     You  are 
not  going  to  wait  for  Braithwaite  !' 
'  Yes,  I  am.' 

'  When  he  returns  you  will  be  gone.  Come  along  !' 
He  took  her  arm,  half  laughing,  half  earnest,  and 
she  yielded,  although  reluctantly.  '  It  is  time  you 
atoned  for  your  bad  behaviour.  Do  you  realize 
that  you  have  spoilt  my  visit  ?' 

'  I  suppose  mother  told  you  to  say  that !'  re- 
torted Rosabel,  with  scorn. 

'  Pardon  me,'  he  said,  *  I  sometimes  venture  upon 
an  original  remark.' 

'  I  know  what  everybody  thinks  !' 
*  I  am  afraid  you  are  flattering  yourself,  my  dear 
child,'  he  said  a  little  bitterly. 

'  And  I  don't  care,'  persisted  Rosabel. 
'  Don't  care  lived  to  be  hanged.' 
The  girl  glanced  at  him  resentfully.  She  sus- 
pected that  he  was  making  fun  of  her,  and  she  was 
less  inclined  to  put  up  with  that  to-night  than  ever. 
To  be  laughed  at,  when  she  was  on  the  eve  of  the 
tragedy  of  her  life  !  She  comforted  herself,  like  a 
child,  with  the  prospect  of  shocking  him.  Her 
flight  would  be  almost  as  great  a  blow  to  him  as  to 
her  mother.  Perhaps  he  would  no  longer  desire  to 
be  connected  with  the  family.  What  an  addition 
to  her  revenge  that  would  be  ! 

She  was  silent  for  so  long  that  he  spoke  again, 
softly. 


222  ROSABEL 

k  Are  you  very  angry  with  me,  Rosabel  ?' 
To  her  horror  a  sudden  inclination  to  cry  seized 
her.  She  had  to  blink  down  the  tears,  and  swallow 
lump  after  lump  in  her  throat.  She  was  enraged 
with  herself  for  such  weakness.  Why  should  she 
mind  what  he  said  and  how  he  said  it  ? 

*  Let  me  alone,'  she  said  in  a  strangled  voice. 

*  Surely  I  haven't  hurt  your  feelings  ?' 
'  No,  you  couldn't,'  she  said. 

He  withdrew  the  caressing  hand  quickly. 

'  It's  only  Braithwaite  who  can  annoy  and  please 
you,  eh  ?' 

'  Yes  !'  gasped  Rosabel. 

'  I  have  no  patience  with  you,'  he  said,  with  anger 
sudden  and  deep.  'Go  in !  Go  away !  I  want 
nothing  more  to  do  with  you.' 

He  had  never  felt  readier  to  despair. 

'  Another  girl  would  attempt  to  conceal  her 
attachment  to  Braithwaite,  at  any  rate — would  deny 
it,'  he  thought.  '  She  thrusts  it  under  one's  very 
eyes  as  though  it  were  something  to  be  proud  of,  or 
she  had  no  sense  of  shame.  Is  Amy  right,  after  all  ? 
Is  she  only  an  animal  ?' 


CHAPTER  XXII 

•  WHERE  is  Braithwaite  ?'  asked  Harrowby. 

It  was  the  next  morning,  and  the  party  had  con- 
gregated in  the  comfortable  sitting-hall  as  usual  to 
discuss  the  plans  of  the  day. 

'  Packing,'  said  his  wife.  '  Don't  you  know  ? 
He  has  had  a  wire  recalling  him  to  London  at 
once.' 

Aylmer  experienced  a  thrill  of  pleasure.  He 
had  the  cheerful  prospect  before  him  of  a  whole 
day  unshadowed  by  Braithwaite.  And  a  day 
with  a  garden-party  in  it,  which  would  offer  many 
agreeable  opportunities  of  making  hay  while  the 
sun  shone.  If  Rosabel  would  only  be  reason- 
able  

He  glanced  at  her  instinctively.  She  was  on 
the  window-seat,  and  the  outline  of  her  cheek  was 
alone  visible.  Her  pose  was  pensive.  Was  she  re- 
gretting this  beast's  departure  ? 

He  wanted  badly  to  talk  to  her  and  make  up  their 
little  quarrel  of  last  night,  but  Mrs.  Fairbourne  in- 
sisted upon  his  accompanying  her  to  the  golf  ground. 

223 


224  ROSABEL 

He  wished  Rosabel  would  come  with  them.  He 
dreaded  an  affectionate  parting  between  her  and 
Braithwaite. 

Rosabel  remained  on  the  window-seat,  however. 
She  knew  that  Braithwaite  would  look  there  for  her 
presently.  She  stared  at  the  smooth  velvet  lawn, 
the  trees  waving  gently,  the  thrush  busily  at  work 
among  the  flower-beds. 

Her  suppressed  excitement  of  yesterday  had  sub- 
sided. She  was  apathetic  now,  as  she  had  been  on 
her  journey  to  London  a  few  weeks  ago.  No  doubt 
the  strain  would  arise  by-and-by  with  the  necessity 
for  action. 

She  was  destroying  her  own  life,  but  she  did  not 
care,  urged  onward  by  a  childish  folly  which  was 
assisted,  unfortunately,  by  a  more  than  childish 
strength  of  will.  She  thought  that  the  joy  of 
revenge  would  be  a  worthy  reward.  Young  for 
her  years  in  some  ways,  she  had  acquired  the  habit 
of  dreaming  and  brooding,  through  being  overmuch 
alone,  till  she  saw  herself,  not  as  a  reckless  girl  of 
passionate  nature,  cherishing  a  grudge  which  made 
her  far  more  miserable  than  it  was  likely  to  make 
anybody  else,  but  as  a  tragic  figure,  the  heroine  of 
a  thrilling  drama  of  life. 

A  man's  footsteps  descended  the  stairs,  halted 
half-way,  then  quickened.  Braithwaite  strode 
eagerly  across  the  hall  to  her  side. 

'  Rosabel !' 


ROSABEL  225 

His  voice  was  low,  quick,  impassioned.  She 
looked  up  at  the  flushed  handsome  face. 

'  You  remember  everything  ?' 

She  nodded.     There  was  a  pause. 

'  You  won't  go  back  ?' 

'No.' 

'  I  shall  be  waiting  for  you  so  eagerly,  my 
darling  !' 

He  kissed  her. 

'  There  is  somebody  coming,'  she  said  furtively, 
and  drew  her  hand  away. 

They  both  looked  out  of  the  window  in  silence 
while  the  butler  tidied  the  litter  of  newspapers  and 
magazines  on  the  table.  The  hungry  thrush  was 
still  poking  in  and  out  of  the  flower-beds.  The 
butler  went  away. 

*  I  wish  I  could  take  you  with  me  now,'  said 
Braithwaite. 

'  You  think  that  I  won't  come  ?' 

'  Of  course  I  trust  you  !  It  is  only  that  I  am  in 
terror  of  something  unforeseen  turning  up.' 

Rosabel's  dark  eyes  burned  with  the  fire  which 
was  scorching  her  soul. 

'  Nothing  could  prevent  my  coming,'  she  said. 

*  You  are  a  little  brick  !' 

'  Hadn't  you  better  go  ?'  she  suggested.  '  You'll 
lose  your  train.' 

He  was  reluctant  to  leave  her;  she  was  quite 
willing  to  be  rid  of  him. 

15 


226  ROSABEL 

She  found  suddenly  that  he  was  regarding  her 
with  a  curious  smile. 

*  I  was  thinking  about  your  mother.     She's  a 
funny  sort  of  mother,  isn't  she  ?     Never  mind,  you 
need  never  see  her  again.     She  may  be  Aylmer's 
money,  but  she  wouldn't  be  mine !     Come  and  see 
me  off.' 

She  rose  and  accompanied  him  obediently. 
The  dog-cart,  with  his  bag  in  it,  was  already  at 
the  front-door. 

*  Good-bye,'  he  whispered,  *  till  this  afternoon.' 
'  Till  this  afternoon,'  she  repeated. 

He  waved  his  hand  to  her,  and  she  went  to  wander 
alone  in  the  garden.  It  was  quite  quiet.  Everyone 
had  gone  to  the  golf  ground.  She  could  think  as 
much  as  she  liked  undisturbed. 

Once  more  she  went  over  her  plans,  so  that  no 
unconsidered  detail  should  take  her  by  surprise. 
There  was  her  purse  with  ten  pounds  in  it  to  be 
guarded  carefully.  She  might  want  it  some  day — 
if  Braithwaite  deserted  her,  or  she  wished  to  leave 
him.  She  did  not  expect  him  to  be  faithful ;  all 
his  protestations  did  not  convince  her.  It  did  not 
matter  ;  she  could  always  earn  her  own  living  while 
she  was  young :  she  was  used  to  work ;  and  when  she 
was  old  she  would  have  Miss  Dudgeon's  money. 

Time  lagged  with  her  this  morning.  There  were 
moments  of  impatience  when  it  seemed  that  it 
would  never  pass.  She  was  all  anxiety  to  take  the 


ROSABEL  227 

final  step  and  realize  that  no  turning  back  was 
possible.  She  dwelt  with  passionate  pleasure  on 
the  scene  which  would  take  place  when  her  absence 
became  known,  of  her  mother's  curiosity  changing 
to  anxiety  and  suspicion.  All  the  people  who 
came  to  Great  Cumberland  Place  would  be  talking 
about  her  flight  with  Maurice  Braithwaite.  She 
knew  how  glad  they  were  of  a  piece  of  scandal , 
and  how  exceptionally  bitter  and  smart  her  mother 
was  wont  to  be  over  the  peccadilloes  of  her 
friends.  In  future  she  would  not  enjoy  gossip  so 
much ;  a  stone  would  have  broken  one  of  the 
windows  of  her  own  glass  house,  and  it  would 
occupy  all  her  time  to  keep  the  wind  out  and  patch 
the  hole  ! 

And  Alec  Aylmer,  what  would  he  say  ?  Of 
course,  he  would  be  angry  with  her ;  but  what  did 
that  matter  ?  In  all  probability  she  would  never 
see  him  again.  It  was  hard  to  realize  that.  She 
stared  at  him  over  lunch  when  no  one  was  observing 
her.  For  some  reason  the  memory  of  that  night  at 
Folkestone  was  fresher  to-day  than  any  she  shared 
with  him.  But  she  had  resolved  never,  never  to 
think  about  him  if  she  could  help  it,  never  to  torture 
herself  with  visions  of  what  might  have  been.  He 
was  her  mother's  property,  and  it  was  one  of  Rosa  - 
bel's  rules  of  life  never  to  care  for  anyone  who  did 
not  care  for  her.  She  wanted  no  charity  kindness 
from  woman  or  man. 

15-2 


228  ROSABEL 

'  What  have  you  been  doing  this  morning  ?'  he 
asked  her  suddenly. 
'  Nothing.' 
'  You  should  have  come  with  us.' 

*  I  liked  it  better  in  the  garden.     I  think  golf's  a 
stupid  game.' 

'  You  don't  care  for  games,  do  you,  Rosabel  ? 
You  are  too  serious.  When  you  are  thirty  you  will 
have  learnt  to  be  young.' 

*  No,  when  she  is  forty,'  corrected  Gledhow.     '  It 
is  not  till  a  woman  is  forty  that  she  is  really  frolic- 
some.' 

*  On  the  principle  of  over-eating  one's  self  to-day 
in  case  there  may  be  nothing  to  eat  to-morrow  ?' 
suggested  Harrowby.     *  I  have  known 

'  Young  people  are  so  morbid  nowadays,'  inter- 
rupted Mrs.  Fairbourne. 

'  If  you  had  said  "  young  women,"  I  should 
agree  with  you.  Women  are  more  morbid  than 
men.' 

'  Of  course  they  are,'  she  assented  promptly.  '  A 
man  can  work  off  superfluous  emotions  in  dissipa- 
tion, a  woman  can  only  stay  at  home  and  think.  A 
generation  ago  she  had  hysterics  ;  now  she  writes 
books  about  her  soul,  and  discusses  free  love  with 
her  male  friends.  It  is  the  same  complaint  express- 
ing itself  in  another  form.' 

Mrs.  Harrowby  was  looking  at  Rosabel  with  a, 
pensive  air. 


ROSABEL  229 

'  Would  Rosabel  have  been  hysterical  a  genera- 
tion ago  ?'  she  inquired. 

'  No,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne.  '  Her  appetite  is  too 
good  !' 

'  But  I  have  seen  lots  of  girls  who  eat  voraciously < 
and  are  never  satisfied,'  said  Mrs.  Gledhow,  speak- 
ing for  the  first  time. 

She  had  a  way  of  involving  a  sentence  so  that  it 
was  impossible  to  guess  whether  it  meant  a  great 
deal  or  nothing  at  all. 

There  was  a  pause.  Mrs.  Harrowby  broke  fresh 
ground. 

'  How  are  we  going  this  afternoon  ?'  she  in- 
quired. 

*  Suppose  you  four  ladies  took  the  landau,  and 
we  men  walked  ?'  suggested  her  husband.     '  There 
is  a  pleasant  short-cut  through  wood  and  meadow.' 

The  others  agreed,  and  by-and-by  the  women 
went  up  to  dress. 

Rosabel  followed  her  mother. 

*  I  don't  care  about  going,'  said  the  girl,  in  her 
brusque  way. 

*  What  is  the  matter  ?' 

'  I  don't  care  about  it,'  repeated  Rosabel. 

*  Does  your  head  ache  ?' 
'No.'  " 

'  Your  heart,  perhaps !'  Mrs.  Fairbourne  gave 
an  unpleasant  little  laugh.  She  thought  it  was 
Maurice  Braithwaite's  departure  which  had  turned 


230  ROSABEL 

Rosabel  '  off.'  '  You  can  do  as  you  like,'  she  added, 
shrugging  her  shoulders.  '  But  what  excuse  am  I 
to  make  for  you  ?  Mrs.  Harrowby  will  consider  it 
very  rude.' 

*  I  don't  know,'  said  Rosabel.     '  I  supposed  you 
would  be  able  to  think  of  something.' 

*  Oh,  make  your  own  excuses !     If  I  say  anything, 
I  shall  say  that  something  has  put  you  out  of 
temper,  and  leave  people  to  find  a  reason  for  them- 
selves.    I  am  disgusted  with  you.     This  is  the  last 
time  you  will  pay  a  visit  with  me.' 

Rosabel's  eyes  gleamed.  If  her  mother  had 
known  how  literally  her  threat  might  be  fulfilled  ! 

She  was  so  smart  and  pretty  in  her  elegant  summer 
toilet.  Rosabel  noted  the  shape  of  her  face,  still 
so  youthful,  the  hair  which  was  perhaps  a  little 
*  touched,'  her  beautiful  eyes,  and  long  white 
hands. 

*  I  am  glad  we  are  leaving  to-morrow,'  continued 
Mrs.  Fairbourne.     '  You  have  made  me  most  un- 
comfortable the  whole  time  we  have  been  here, 
Rosabel.     The  Harrowbys  must   think  you  a  per- 
fect savage,  and  have  a  little  better  opinion  of  me 
for  bringing  you.     I  asked  to  bring  you.     My  own 
invitation  was  a  long-standing  one,  given  before  my 
friends  had  heard  of  you.     I  wish  heartily  that  they 
had  never  heard  of  you  at  all !' 

*  I  don't,'  said  Rosabel.     '  I  hope  they  all  know 
about  me.' 


ROSABEL  231 

*  I  don't  follow  your  mood,'   said  her  mother. 
'You  have  no  reason  to  be  self-satisfied.     I  may 
as  well  tell  you  that  I  have  declined  another  invita- 
tion on  your  account,  and  taken  a  furnished  house 
in  Norfolk  instead.     Mr.  Bellamy  will  be  among  the 
guests  I  have  asked  to  stay  with  us.     I  hope  you 
will  be  civil  to  him.' 

Rosabel  smiled. 

'  You  understand,  Rosabel  ?  I  expect  you  to 
retrieve  yourself  by  behaving  sensibly.' 

'  I  understand  very  well  what  you  mean,  mother.' 

*  The  only  thing  for  you,  I  can  see,  is  to  settle 
down.     Mr.  Aylmer  agrees  with  me.' 

Rosabel's  cheeks  flamed  suddenly. 

'  What  is  it  to  do  with  him  !' 

'  All  my  affairs  are  to  do  with  him,'  replied  Mrs. 
Fairbourne,  with  an  assurance  far  from  being 
sincere. 

*  Good-bye  !'  said  the  girl  abruptly,  and  turned 
away. 

Her  mother  did  not  trouble  to  answer.  She  was 
putting  on  her  gloves. 

Rosabel  went  to  her  room,  and  packed  a  few 
necessaries  in  a  little  bag.  Then  she  wrote  a  note, 
which  she  had  written  many  times  in  her  mind  : 

'  I  have  run  away  with  Mr.  Braithwaite.  What 
else  could  you  expect  of  a  barmaid  ?  You  will  never 

see  me  again. 

ROSABEL.' 


232  ROSABEL 

She  addressed  this  characteristic  message  to  her 
mother,  and  waited  awhile.  Presently  she  heard 
the  carriage  drive  up,  and  the  ladies  depart.  A 
few  moments  later  the  men  started. 

If  she  had  looked  her  last  upon  her  mother  with- 
out any  emotion  other  than  joy,  it  was  far  other- 
wise that  she  said  farewell  with  her  eyes  to  Alec 
Aylmer. 

She  gazed  after  him  dimly.  In  another  way  he 
had  done  her  as  much  harm  as  her  mother.  She 
could  hear  his  voice  still : 

'  Love,  love,  Rosabel !' 

The  girl's  throat  contracted.  She  drew  a  long 
quivering  sigh,  and  went  to  put  the  note  on  her 
mother's  dressing-table  where  it  would  be  found 
when  she  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IN  spite  of  Braithwaite's  welcome  departure,  Aylmer 
was  feeling  depressed  this  afternoon,  and  his  ab- 
straction scarcely  realized  the  sunlight  and  shadow 
of  the  woods. 

The  necessity  for  a  distinct  understanding  with 
Amy  Fairbourne  confronted  him.  There  are  some 
hints  which  the  keenest-witted  woman  will  not  take* 
and  she  still  attempted  to  lead  him  with  a  string 
which  was  irksome,  although  it  was  fashioned  of 
nothing  more  galling  than  ribbon  and  flowers. 

It  would  not  be  pleasant  to  tell  her  outright  that 
he  wanted  the  girl ;  yet  otherwise  how  could  he 
put  himself  upon  a  proper  footing  in  her  house  ? 
To  go  on  in  the  old  way  was  unfair  to  himself  and 
Rosabel.  At  least,  he  ought  to  have  a  chance.  Of 
course,  the  mother  might  be  a  powerful  adverse 
influence  if  she  chose.  Would  she  choose  ? 

That  he  should  ever  arrive  at  asking  himself  such 
a  question  showed  how  great  a  revolution  had  taken 
place  in  his  regard  for  her.  Where  was  the  indul- 
gence he  had  formerly  bestowed  upon  the  weak- 

233 


234  ROSABEL 

nesses  which  had  seemed  part  of  her  charm  ?  It 
had  come  home  to  him  slowly  but  certainly  that 
their  code  of  morals  was  not  at  all  the  same  ;  that 
these  '  weaknesses '  he  had  admired  made  up  a 
woman  who  was  selfish  and  vain,  unscrupulous  and 
cruel.  The  surface  of  her  was  so  polished,  in  fact> 
that  the  glitter  of  it  had  blinded  him  to  the  fact 
that  the  metal  beneath  was  only  of  the  common 
sort.  He  had  been  a  fool,  and  the  result  of  his 
folly  would  be  a  bad  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  a 
lifelong  enmity  from  a  woman  who  would  never 
forgive. 

'  If  you  are  going  to  run  on  a  hot  afternoon  like 
this,  I  shall  sit  down  on  the  nearest  bank  and  wait 
till  you  come  back,'  said  Gledhow  resignedly. 
'  My  figure  was  not  intended  for  ten  miles  an 
hour.' 

'  Not  five,'  retorted  Aylmer,  '  and  a  little  exer- 
cise will  do  you  good.' 

But  his  smile  was  directed  as  much  against  him- 
self as  the  other  man.  Unconsciously  he  had  been 
hurrying  to  meet  Rosabel. 

In  another  ten  minutes  the  men  emerged  from  the 
wood  near  a  gate  in  a  ring  fence,  and  five  minutes 
more  brought  them  to  a  lawn  gay  with  ladies 
in  summer  costumes,  their  sunshades  dotting  the 
grass  like  many-coloured  mushrooms  on  gaudy 
stems. 

Aylmer's    eyes    roved    instantly    in    search    of 


ROSABEL  235 

Rosabel,  and  found  her  not.  While  he  stood  yawning 
mentally,  an  acquaintance  greeted  him,  and  bore 
him  off  to  have  an  iced  drink  after  his  walk.  Half 
an  hour  had  passed  before  he  found  his  way  to  the 
side  of  Mrs.  Fairbourne,  and  his  first  remark  was 
sufficiently  damping  to  a  woman  in  love. 

'  Where  is  Rosabel  ?' 

'  She  isn't  here.' 

He  started  slightly. 

'  I  thought  she  came  with  you  ?' 

'  No  ;  she  had  one  of  her  sulky  fits,  and  preferred 
to  stay  at  home.' 

'  What  excuse  did  she  make  ?' 

'  None,  except  that  she  preferred  to  remain  at 
home.  What  is  the  matter  ?' 

'  The  sun  is  rather  warm,'  he  said. 

'  You  shouldn't  have  walked.' 

*  I  will  go  indoors  for  a  moment,  if  you  will  excuse 
me.' 

'  Let  me  come  with  you  !' 

'  No,  please  don't.     It  is  quite  unnecessary.' 

He  motioned  her  back  in  her  chair. 

*  You  always  seem  so  strong,'  she  said  uneasily. 

'  I  am  strong,'  he  replied.  '  Stronger  than  you 
think !' 

He  left  her  staring  after  him,  conscious  of  some- 
thing underlying  his  words  that  she  did  not  under- 
stand, something  antagonistic  to  her  and  her 
desires.  So  she  sat  isolated  among  the  hum  of 


236  ROSABEL 

voices  and  laughter  and  clatter  of  tea-cups,  with  a 
haggard  look  on  her  face. 

The  afternoon  had  suddenly  become  sultry.  She 
felt  out  of  place,  neglected,  old.  Why  had  she 
come  ?  Why  did  she  go  anywhere  ?  There  was 
only  one  thing  in  the  world  she  wanted,  and  it 
evaded  her. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

AYLMER  left  after  excusing  himself  to  his  hostess, 
and  walked  rapidly  back  to  The  Hermitage.  He 
was  uneasy  about  Rosabel.  If  she  were  fretting 
over  Braithwaite's  departure  he  wanted  to  talk  a 
little  sense  into  her  head  and  comfort  into  her 
heart.  This  was  how  he  accounted  to  himself  for 
his  haste  to  return.  In  reality,  an  impression  of 
calamity  had  overtaken  him,  and  his  actions  were 
dictated  by  an  unacknowledged  anxiety  to  make 
sure  that  she  was  safe. 

The  garden  wore  a  deserted  air  when  he  reached 
it  at  last.  There  was  the  same  suggestive  empti- 
ness in  the  hall,  of  which  his  eyes  took  in  every 
comer  with  a  glance.  But  on  the  window-seat, 
which  she  had  favoured  so  often,  a  book  lay  open, 
as  though  a  girl's  careless  hand  had  just  dropped 
it  and  might  soon  pick  it  up  again.  She  was  not 
in  the  drawing-room,  nor  in  the  dining-room,  nor 
in  the  library. 

He  rang  the  bell.  A  servant  appeared,  who 
looked  surprised  to  see  him. 

237 


238  ROSABEL 

'  Can  you  tell  me  where  I  shall  find  Miss  Fair- 
bourne  ?' 

'  I'll  inquire,  sir.' 

His  pulses  became  feverish  while  he  waited. 
When  he  heard  a  footstep  his  head  went  up  with 
a  jerk,  and  if  she  had  been  there  his  eyes  would 
have  said  to  her:  'I  love  you.'  But  it  was  only 
a  housemaid. 

'  Miss  Fairbourne  isn't  in  her  room,  sir.  I  know 
she  went  out  soon  after  you  did,  sir,  because  Williams 
the  gardener  saw  her  at  the  station.' 

'  At  the  station  ?' 

'  Yes,  sir.  He  says  she  had  a  little  bag  in  her 
hand.' 

The  woman  looked  curious. 

'  Thanks,'  said  Aylmer. 

His  face  was  gray.  He  realized  now  what  it  was 
that  he  had  feared  all  along,  why  he  had  been  im- 
pelled to  return  at  once,  why  the  suspense  of  that 
walk  back  would  remain  with  him,  a  hideous 
memory,  for  ever.  No  process  of  reasoning  was 
necessary.  He  loved  her  ;  his  instinct  leaped  to 
the  right  conclusion,  and  he  knew  then  as  well  as  he 
knew  later  that  she  had  gone  to  Braithwaite. 

Harsh  words  he  had  for  her  at  this  moment- 
words  he  would  have  struck  another  man  for  apply- 
ing to  her  yesterday.  But  he  could  not  leave  her 
to  her  fate  ;  the  girl  must  be  saved  despite  herself, 
although  she  seemed  scarcely  worth  the  effort. 


ROSABEL 


239 


She  was  Rosabel  still,  and  her  life,  whatever  she 
did,  was  woof  to  the  warp  of  his  own. 

He  knew  Braithwaite's  London  address,  and 
there  was  a  train  at  5.15.  She  must  have  had 
more  than  an  hour's  start  of  him,  but  he  could 
only  do  his  best — and  blame  himself  most  unreason- 
ably for  not  having  anticipated  her  flight,  and 
prevented  it.  Yet  even  now  he  could  scarcely 
credit  her  with  such  a  passion  ;  obstinate  as  she 
had  been  in  making  herself  conspicuous,  he  had  never 
seen  her  give  Braithwaite  a  glance  which  meant  love. 

But  she  had  gone  !  The  crushing  fact  stared 
him  in  the  face,  and  his  amazement  did  not  bring 
her  back.  He  had  thought  her  a  mere  girl,  innocent 
in  spite  of  her  breeding,  imbued  with  a  natural 
shrinking  from  anything  gross  or  evil,  and  she  had 
gone  to  Braithwaite  !  It  was  the  bitterest  draught 
of  his  life. 

He  closed  his  eyes  in  the  train  to  avoid  seeing 
his  fellow-passengers,  and  wished  he  could  close 
his  ears,  too.  There  was  hell  in  his  heart. 

When  his  hansom  stopped  at  Braithwaite's 
door  the  windows  were  alight. 

'Mr.  Braithwaite  is  out  of  town,  sir,'  said  the 
servant  who  answered  his  ring. 

The  ready  response  was  what  Aylmer  had  ex- 
pected in  spite  of  the  lighted  windows.  It  dispelled 
any  hope  he  might  have  had  that  he  was  mistaken 
about  Rosabel. 


240 


ROSABEL 


*  Nonsense !'  he  said.     *  He  came  back  to  London 
this  morning,  and  he  will  see  me.     If  he  is  out  I 
will  wait  for  him.' 

He  pushed  past  the  man,  who  gave  way,  taken 
by  surprise,  and  ascended  the  stairs. 

On  the  first  floor  a  door  stood  ajar,  revealing  a 
good-sized  sitting-room. 

Rosabel  was  there,  and  alone.  She  had  taken 
off  her  hat  and  coat,  and  rested  in  an  armchair, 
quite  at  home,  her  cheek  against  the  cushion  as 
though  she  were  tired.  Braithwaite's  cigar-case 
lay  on  the  table  beside  her,  his  photographs  were 
strewn  about  the  mantelpiece,  his  belongings 
everywhere.  The  place  reeked  of  him.  And  she 
was  there  ! 

Rage — an  almost  unconquerable  rage — seized 
Aylmer.  He  pushed  open  the  door. 

She  started  up  with  a  cry,  and  went  very  white  ; 
he  was  pale  enough,  too.  They  stared  at  each  other 
in  silence*  and  the  tension  strained  like  a  lute- 
string— held  insufferably  till  it  broke  at  last  with 
a  snap. 

*  Are  you  mad,  Rosabel  ?     What  are  you  doing 
here  ?' 

'  Have  you  seen  the  note  I  left  for  my  mother  ?' 
'  No  ;  I  returned  from  the  garden-party  earlier  than 

the  others,  and  guessed  what  had  become  of  you.' 
'  I  told  her  in  the  note  that  I  was  going  away 

with    Mr.    Braithwaite.'     The    girl    was    breathing 


ROSABEL  24I 

quickly,  unevenly  ;  she  defied  him  with  her  eyes. 
*  I  am  not  frightened  or  ashamed.' 
'  I  regret  to  hear  it !' 

'  What  do  you  want  ?'  she  demanded.  '  Why 
have  you  come  ?' 

To  take  you  away  with  me.  You  shall  not 
stay  with  Braithwaite.  You  shall  not  ruin  yourself 
if  I  can  help  it.' 

'  But  it's  my  life,'  she  said,  '  and  I  can  do  what  I 
like  with  it.' 

'  You  must  leave  this  place  at  once,  Rosabel.' 
'  You  can't  dictate  to  me,'  she  panted.     '  You 
have  no  power  over  me.' 

He  stood  like  a  rock  before  her — a  rock  against 
which  she  hurled  herself  unavailingly. 

'  I  would  not  have  believed  it  possible  that  you 
could  be  so  dead  to  decency.' 

'  Kindly  go  away,'  she  cried.  '  I  have  made  up 
my  mind,  and  when  my  mind  is  made  up  nobody 
can  change  it.  You  might  have  known  it  was 
useless  to  come.' 

'  You  disgust  me !'  he  said,  with  a  gesture  of  anger. 
*  How  I  could  ever  have  thought  you  had  good 

instincts ' 

'  Good  instincts  !'  Rosabel  laughed.  c  Why 
should  I  have  any  ?  From  whom  should  I  have 
inherited  them — from  my  mother  ?  From  whom 
should  I  have  acquired  them— from  my  friends  of 

the  public-house  ?' 

16 


242  ROSABEL 

'  Your  tone  is  abominable,'  he  said.  '  But  for 
the  sake  of  the  girl  you  seemed  to  be — the  girl 
who  talked  to  me  that  night  at  Folkestone — I 
refuse  to  leave  you  with  this  man.' 

She  was  drunk  and  shaking  with  excitement. 

*  You  can't  help  yourself.     I  shall  stay,  and  you 
can  go  back  to  my  mother  and  tell  her  why !     Tell 
her  that  I  am  what  she  made  me,  and  if  that's 
bad,  why,  she's  bad  too.     When  did  she  ever  care 
for  me,  protect  me,  even  trouble  herself  to  ask  what 
I  was  doing  all  those  years  ?     I  might  have  walked 
the  streets — as  long  as  nobody  knew.     But  every- 
body will   know    this.     The   whole  story  of    the 
shameful  way  she  deserted  me  will  come  out.     She 
made  me  eat  dirt,  let  her  eat  some  too !     I  would 
wallow  in   the  gutter  for   the  sake  of  splashing 
her.' 

A  light  flashed  across  Aylmer's  brain^  and  a 
weight  rolled  off  his  heart. 

*  So  you  are  not  in  love  with  Braithwaite  ?'  he 
asked  quietly.     *  It  is  only — revenge  ?' 

*  Go  back  and  tell  her !'  panted  the  girl.     *  You 
are  her  friend.     Let  her  see  herself  as  she  is  at  last. 
I  shall  stay.' 

'  With  a  man  you  don't  love — for  revenge  !'  At 
last  he  felt  his  feet,  and  really  roused  to  the  fight. 
'  Good  God !  how  can  you  be  so  foolish  !  Leaving 
morality  out  of  the  question,  how  can  you  be  so 
foolish  !  What  do  you  think  your  life  would  be  ?' 


ROSABEL  243 

'  I  know  what  I  am  doing,'  replied  Rosabel 
obstinately. 

*  What  are  you  ?'  he  demanded.     *  A  woman  of 
such  unnatural  depravity  that  you  have  no  shrink- 
ing, or  a  child  delirious  with  this  mad  notion  of 
revenge  ?' 

'  I  don't  care  what  you  say,'  retorted  Rosabel, 
between  her  teeth.  *  Call  me  whatever  you  please. 
I  shall  stay.' 

*  I  confess  that  you  amaze  me,'  he  said.     *  Is 
it  possible  that  you  can  be  ridiculous  enough  to 
commit  suicide  in  order  to  punish  your  mother  ? 
Do  you  imagine  that  she  would  be  humiliated  by 
your  shocking  behaviour  ?     Not  a  bit  of  it !     Her 
friends  would  pity  her.     They  would  say  :  "  Poor 
Amy,  what  a  misfortune  to  be  burdened  by  such  a 
daughter !     The  father  was  a  groom,  you  know  : 
what  else  could  you  expect  ?" 

His  mimicry  of  the  voice  of  a  fine  lady  was  ex- 
cellent, but  they  were  both  in  too  much  of  a  temper 
to  appreciate  it.  Rosabel  gazed  at  him  with  the 
eyes  of  a  basilisk.  Hard  as  he  was  hitting,  she  did 
not  flinch.  She  clenched  hands  and  teeth,  and 
defied  him  still,  and  even  the  man's  anger  could  not 
deny  her  strength  a  silent  tribute  of  unwilling 
admiration. 

'  It  doesn't  make  any  difference  what  you  say,' 
she  reiterated.  *  Of  course,  you  are  acting  for  her. 
I  dare  say  she  told  you  to  fetch  me.' 

16 — 2 


244  ROSABEL 

'  In  fact,  you  insinuate  that  I  lied  when  I  denied 
any  knowledge  of  your  note  ?' 

Rosabel  preserved  an  obstinate  silence. 

'  And  you  insist  upon  believing  that  your  mother 
would  be  heart-broken  by  your  conduct  because  you 
are  too  stupid  to  see  that  she  would  have  compen- 
sation.' 

'  She  is  very  proud,'  said  Rosabel,  '  and  she  is 
always  considering  what  people  think  of  her.' 

'  You  are  cutting  your  own  throat,'  he  said, 
'  that  is  all.  You  had  revenge  in  your  very  hand 
at  home — a  legitimate  revenge  which  would  have 
come  to  you  without  any  seeking  on  your  part. 
But  you  were  too  preoccupied  to  observe  it — or  you 
preferred  to  abandon  yourself  to  your  own  head- 
long course  to  ruin.  God  give  me  patience  with 
you !' 

She  wavered  at  last,  impressed  by  his  savage 
earnestness. 

*  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,'  she  said. 

'  And  I  don't  feel  inclined  to  tell  you  just  now. 
PutjDn  your  hat,  Rosabel !' 
'  I  shall  not.' 
He  caught  her  by  the  wrist. 

*  Put  on  your  hat !' 

'  You  can't  take  me  away  by  force  !'  cried  the 
girl,  and  wrenched  herself  free,  and  ran  to  the  door. 
*  Maurice  !'  she  called. 

Aylmer   uttered    an   exclamation,    made   a   step 


ROSABEL  245 

forward  as  though  to  silence  her,  quivered,  and 
stood  still. 

'  Now  go  !'  she  said.     *  He  will  protect  me.' 
It  was  the  crisis  of  two  lives,  and  pride  fought 
with  love  for  mastery  of  the  man.     If  he  left  her 
now  it  would  be  for  ever. 

He  heard  Braithwaite  coming  down  the  stairs. 
'  And  I  ?     Would  I  hurt  you  ?'  he  asked  in  a  low 
tone.     '  Would  I  hurt  you  in  a  thousand  years  as 
you  have  hurt  me  to-day  ?     Your  mother  wishes 
to  marry   me— it   isn't  a  pleasant    thing  to  say, 
Rosabel — and  I  love  you  ;  there  was  your  revenge.' 
'  You  love  me  ?' 
'  Yes.' 
'  Not  her  ?' 

'  You,  only  you — for  ever  you  !' 
She  left  the  door  and  came  nearer  to  him  and 
nearer,    searching   his    face   with   wide   eyes — the 
terrible  eyes  of  a  soul's  hunger. 

'  It's  a  lie  !'  she  said.  '  You  are  only  cheating 
me!' 

He  answered  with  a  look,  and  she  broke  suddenly, 
dropping  on  her  knees  at  the  table,  and  burst  into 
tears. 

Braithwaite  entered,  and  started  at  sight  of 
Aylmer. 

'  What  the  devil  are  you  doing  here  ?'  he  demanded 
furiously.  '  Don't  cry,  Rosabel.'  He  turned  to 
Aylmcr  again.  '  Damn  you,  get  out  of  this  !' 


246  ROSABEL 

'  Not  yet,'  said  Aylmer.  He  bent  over  the 
girl.  *  Rosabel,  do  you  really  wish  me  to  leave 
you  ?' 

She  put  out  her  hand  blindly. 

'  No.     Take  me  away,'  she  sobbed. 

He  helped  her  to  her  feet,  and  she  put  on  her  hat, 
which  he  gave  her,  and  her  coat. 

Braithwaite  watched  as  though  he  were  stupefied. 

*  Look  here,  Rosabel,  you  are  not  going  ?' 
'  Yes,  I  am,'  she  said. 

'  You  are  treating  me  unfairly.' 

*  I  don't  think  we  need  discuss  that !'  said  Aylmer^ 
restraining   his   passion    with   an   effort.     '  Come, 
Rosabel.' 

He  led  her  to  the  door.  Braithwaite  inter- 
vened. 

*  Confound  it,  this  is  too  much  !     Don't  you  want 
to  stay  with  me,  Rosabel  ?' 

'  No,'  said  Rosabel  distinctly. 

The  veins  stood  out  on  Braithwaite's  forehead, 
swollen  with  a  rush  of  blood,  and  his  hand  clenched ; 
but  he  did  nothing — there  was  nothing  to  do ;  she 
had  ended  it.  She  did  not  even  wish  him  good-byej 
and  the  door  banged  behind  her  with  a  note  of 
finality. 

Aylmer  took  her  downstairs,  and  sighed  with 
relief  to  get  out  of  the  house.  He  put  her  in  a 
hansom,  and  got  in  himself. 

*  Paddington,'  he  said. 


ROSABEL  247 

Rosabel  did  not  heed  or  ask  where  he  was  taking 
her ;  at  intervals  she  sobbed  still— low,  long- 
drawn,  tearless  sobs,  the  last  mutterings  of  the 
storm.  Aylmer  sat  silent,  his  arms  folded,  his 
features  set,  staring  straight  ahead.  He  did  not 
touch  her,  or  look  at  her,  or  take  any  notice 
at  all. 

The  drive  seemed  short ;  they  were  both  thinking 
so  hard.  When  the  cab  stopped,  Rosabel  spoke  at 
last. 

4  Where  are  we  going  ?' 

'  I  shall  telegraph  to  your  mother,  and  leave 
you  with  your  aunt  at  the  Angler's  Inn.' 

She  raised  no  objection,  and  he  sent  the  wire,  and 
took  the  tickets  without  remark.  But  he  selected 
an  empty  compartment,  and  pulled  up  one  window 
to  protect  her  from  the  draught. 

Rosabel's  eyes  smarted,  and  her  head  ached. 
She  took  off  her  hat  presently,  and  leaned  back. 
Her  attitude  was  almost  identical  with  her  attitude 
in  Braithwaite's  armchair.  Aylmer  ground  his 
teeth,  and  turned  away. 

'  You've  said  a  lot  of  horrid  things  to  me,  haven't 
you  ?'  she  said  abruptly.  '  Bitter  things — cruel 
things !' 

*  You  deserved  every  one  of  them,  and  more.' 

*  But  you  needn't  have  said  them.' 

'  I  thought  you  were  fond  of  justice,  Rosabel  ? 
You  ventured  far  in  search  of  it !' 


248  ROSABEL 

'  Oh,  I  shan't  talk  at  all !'  said  Rosabel. 

She  averted  her  face,  and  whimpered  a  little 
presently,  and  the  rest  of  the  journey — like  the 
cab  drive — was  performed  in  silence. 

It  was  dark  before  they  reached  their  station,  and 
when  they  descended  the  lamps  were  lighted, 
and  a  chill  mist  was  rising  from  the  low-lying 
fields. 

She  led  the  way  through  the  wicket,  and  stopped 
-.outside. 

*  You  needn't  come  any  farther  unless  you  like.' 

'  Thank  you,'  said  Aylmer ;  *  I  prefer  to  see  you 
home.' 

*  Do  you  think  I  need  watching  ?'  demanded  the 
girl,  with  sudden  violence.     '  Are  you  going  to  tell 
my  aunt  to  lock  me  in  ?' 

He  walked  beside  her  quietly.  They  came  to 
the  cross-roads,  and  then  to  the  barn,  and  then 
to  the  duck-pond,  which  was  always  half  dry  at 
midsummer.  A  cow  in  a  shed  lowed  as  they  passed, 
and  a  familiar  farmyard  smell  greeted  Rosabel's 
nostrils.  It  was  very  quiet ;  their  footsteps  were 
almost  noiseless  on  the  dust  of  a  long  drought. 

The  glow/from'therbar  window  was  visible  quite 
a  long  way  off,  like  a  great  red  eye  which  grew 
bigger  and  bigger  every  moment.  A  door  swung 
open,  and  the  smell  of  beer  came  out.  Rosabel's 
heart  gave  a  little  throb  for  some  unknown  reason t 
and  she  stopped  by  the  bench  where  Braithwaite 


ROSABEL  249 

had  tried  to  kiss  her  on  the  birthday  which  seemed 
so  long  ago. 

'  Are  you  coming  in  ?'  she  asked. 
'No.     I   must    catch    the    last    train   back   to 
London.' 

There  was  a  pause  of  twenty  seconds.  She  stood 
with  her  back  to  the  light,  but  his  face  was  thrown 
into  relief  against  the  black  background  of  the 
night. 

The  girl's  tongue  was  loosened  at  last. 
'  Forgive  me — oh,  forgive  me  !' 
'  Do  you  really  care  whether  I  do  or  not  ?' 
'  If  I  had  known,'  she  said  huskily,  '  I  would  have 
been  so  different.' 

'  What  does  that  mean  ?' 

'  I've  loved  you  for  ever  so  long,  and  now  you 
are  angry,  and  you  won't  forgive  me,  and  I  shall 
die  of  shame  !' 

Aylmer's  breathing  quickened.  He  did  not 
answer  for  a  moment. 

'  It's  a  thing  no  man  would  forgive,'  he  said. 
'  The  mere  ideas  you  have  had  have  tainted 
you.  And  I  don't  even  know  how  far  you  have 

gone  with  Braithwaite ' 

Rosabel's  head  drooped ;  she  plucked  at  her 
gown. 

*  He  has  kissed  me,'  she  said,  in  a  guilty  whisper, 
*  five  times.  I  didn't  like  it,  and  now — how  I  hate 
to  think  of  it  now  !' 


250  ROSABEL 

*  Is  that  all,  Rosabel  ?' 

'  I  am  sure  it  wasn't  more  than  five  times,'  she 
answered  innocently. 

The  light  caught  her  face,  and  he  looked  hard 
at  it. 

'  You  are  truthful,'  he  admitted.  '  Whatever  you 
are  not  which  you  ought  to  be,  I  will  swear  you  are 
truthful !  So  I  will  believe  that  he  has  only — kissed 
you  five  times.  That  is  bad  enough.' 

'  I  know.  I  am  not  defending  myself.  Only — 
why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?' 

'  You  never  gave  me  a  civil  word  after  he  ap- 
peared. Under  such  circumstances,  it  isn't  easy  to 
tell  a  girl  you  love  her  !' 

'  I  thought  you  were  going  to  marry  my  mother, 
you  see.' 

*  Yes,  we  have  both  made  mistakes,'  he  said — 
'  such  mistakes  as  one  pays  for  all  one's  life.* 

'  All  one's  life  ?'  repeated  the  girl  drearily.  '  And 
— I  am  only  nineteen.' 

There  was  another  silence.  The  sound  of  the 
river  rushing  over  the  weir  reached  them  faintly, 
again  the  wakeful  cow  lowed  in  the  shed  across 
the  fields,  and  Mrs.  Collins'  robust  voice,  raised  in 
admonition,  penetrated  the  outer  stillness  of  the 
night. 

'  'Ow  much  longer  are  you  goin'  to  be  with  them 
sandwiches,  Jane  ?  The  gentleman  wants  to  catch 
his  train.' 


ROSABEL  251 

For  the  second  time  that  evening  a  tension 
snapped.  Without  a  sound  she  threw  her  arms 
round  his  neck. 

He  responded  instantly,  passionately,  clasping 
her  close,  and  kissing  her  on  the  lips. 

*  We  are  both  upset  to-night.  I  shall  see  you 
to-morrow,  Rosabel.' 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  folly  of  washing  one's  dirty  linen  in  public  was 
not  one  of  Amy  Fairbourne's.  She  considered  it 
indecent,  and,  what  was  perhaps  worse,  a  bore.  At 
least,  the  unpleasant  operation  might  be  postponed. 
So  she  told  her  hostess  that  Rosabel  had  gone  home  in 
a  fit  of  ill-temper,  apologized  for  her  daughter's  shock- 
ing behaviour,  and  burned  the  note  in  her  bedroom 
grate.  Aylmer's  disappearance  she  was  not  called 
upon  to  explain ,  but  she  knew  perfectly  well  that  he 
had  guessed,  God  knows  why,  and  followed.  What 
was  it  to  do  with  him  ?  And  as  a  rule  he  was  the 
last  man  in  the  world  to  interfere  with  other  people's 
business.  Regardless  of  appearances,  he,  who  ought 
to  have  been  petrified  by  disgust,  had  rushed  to  the 
rescue.  And  if  his  ofnciousness  succeeded,  he 
would  expect  gratitude. 

Brilliant  in  the  light  of  many  wax  candles- 
candles  were  a  fad  at  The  Hermitage — Amy  Fair- 
bourne  laughed  loudly  at  a  particularly  stupid  joke. 
Yes,  he  would  expect  gratitude.  What  an  absurd 
world  it  was  !  But  he  might  not  succeed. 

252 


ROSABEL  253 

There  were  moments  when  she  saw  black  spots 
instead  of  white  walls  and  water-colours,  and  the 
carpet  rose  under  her  feet  like  an  ocean  wave  ;  and 
she  had  had  only  two  glasses  of  champagne  for 
dinner  besides  the  wing  of  a  chicken  and  an  ice  in  a 
paper  frill.  She  would  have  given  five  hundred 
pounds  to  go  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock,  but  dare  not  say 
her  head  ached ;  four  pairs  of  eyes  were  on  the  watch, 
and  she  could  almost  hear  the  conjectures  which 
would  follow  her  retreat. 

Nevertheless,  when  a  telegram  on  a  salver  was 
brought  to  her,  she  took  it  calmly. 

'  Rosabel  safe.  Staying  with  Collinses  to-night. 
Can  I  see  you  in  the  morning  ?  Please  answer  to 
my  address. — AYLMER.' 

She  crumpled  the  message  in  her  hand. 

'  It  is  only  from  Rosabel,'  she  said. 

In  all  her  life  she  had  never  passed  such  an 
insufferable  evening.  She  was  sick  with  suspense 
and  dread.  What  was  Aylmer's  attitude  towards 
Rosabel  ?  He  must  be  disgusted.  Even  caring 
enough  to  bring  her  back,  he  must  be  disgusted. 
No  man  could  take  it  calmly.  Surely  he  would 
hate  her  for  evermore  ? 

Still,  she  could  not  banish  a  host  of  misgivings, 
and  the  sickness  of  suspense  endured.  Perhaps  he 
was  going  to  bully  her  for  not  taking  better  care  of 
her  daughter,  and  wash  his  hands  of  the  pair  of  them. 


254  ROSABEL 

Even  that,  she  felt,  would  be  better  than  the  other 
thing — that  '  other  thing  '  which  she  scarcely  dared 
to  name  even  to  her  own  soul.  In  the  morning  she 
was  allowed  to  go.  It  was  like  emerging  from 
prison — the  relief  of  being  free  at  last  to  look  as  ugly 
as  she  liked. 

Directly  she  was  alone  the  animation  left  her 
eyes,  her  mouth  drooped  at  the  corners ;  it 
was  as  though  another  woman  had  stepped  into 
her  clothes — a  woman  who  was  tired,  careworn, 
old. 

The  lowered  blinds  and  general  stagnation  of 
London  in  August  did  not  tend  to  raise  her  spirits. 
The  district  of  Hyde  Park  was  especially  depressing. 
A  whole  street  she  passed  through  bore  scarcely  a 
sign  of  life.  A  footman  in  his  shirt-sleeves  was 
sunning  himself  on  the  doorsteps  of  a  certain  mansion 
where  she  had  enjoyed  many  a  good  dinner  ;  an 
elderly  caretaker  was  gossiping  at  an  area  gate  with 
the  milkman  ;  a  domestic  tabby  stealing  across  the 
road  might  have  been  a  wild  relation  prowling  among 
the  deserted,  sun-baked  streets  of  a  ruined  city  of 
the  East.  Not  a  carriage  was  in  sight ;  not  a  wheel 
or  a  hoof  broke  the  stillness.  Great  Cumberland 
Place  was  sleeping,  shuttered  and  silent,  as 
though  it  had  never  heard  the  sound  of  human 
foot. 

Her  dining-room  blinds  were  up  in  readiness  for 
her  arrival,  however,  and  a  slatternly  female,  the 


ROSABEL  255 

coachman's  sister,  opened  the  door.     She  sent  a 
reply  to  Aylmer's  telegram  : 

'  Will  see  you  at  Great  Cumberland  Place  at  one 
o'clock.' 

Then  she  waited  for  hours,  for  a  lifetime. 
When  he  arrived,  on  the  stroke  of  one,  she  was 
still  in  her  hat,  like  a  visitor,  and  the  well-known 
perfume  of  violets  greeted  him  with  her  gloved 
hand. 

*  Excuse  this  mausoleum,'  she  said.     'The  ser- 
vants have  gone  to  Norfolk.     I  am  only  stopping  to 
see  you  on  the  way.     What  of  Rosabel  ?' 
'  You  had  her  note  ?' 
'  Yes.' 

'  My    telegram     reached    you     last     night,    of 
course  ?' 

'  It  was  thoughtful  of  you  to  relieve  my  anxiety  !' 
She  was  extremely  bitter.     '  Where  did  you  find  her 
— with  Maurice  Braithwaite  ?' 
'  I  am  forced  to  admit  that  I  did.' 
4  She   has   behaved   abominably,   and  you — like 
yourself.     I  guessed  at  once  that  you  had  followed 
her.     What  made  you  suspect  ?' 

'  Sundry  reflections  inspired  by  her  absence  from 
the  garden-party.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  catch 
the  next  tram.' 

'  What  did  she  say  ?' 

4  A  great  deal.     She  is  not  as  bad  as  you  think,' 


256  ROSABEL 

he  said.     *  Only  she  has  deeper  feelings  than  most 
girls — and  she  is  braver.' 

'  Braver !'  repeated  Mrs.  Fairbourne.  '  A  de- 
praved woman  would  have  had  more — more  hesita- 
tion. I  have  another  word  for  her  conduct.' 

'  Then,  don't  say  it,  please !  You  don't  under- 
stand yet.' 

His  tone  exasperated  her.  She  saw  already  that 
he  was  far  from  being  alienated  from  Rosabel,  and 
the  fact  was  not  likely  to  propitiate  her  in  her 
daughter's  favour. 

'  I  understand  very  well,'  she  said. 

*  I  think  not ;  I  didn't.  She  does  not  care  for 
Braithwaite.  She  went  to  him  merely  to  create  a 
scandal.' 

Mrs.  Fairbourne,  taken  aback,  stared  at  him. 

'  Is  she  mad  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?' 

'  I  give  you  her  own  explanation.  She  planned 
this  flight  with  Braithwaite  wholly  and  solely  to 
create  a  scandal  which  should  call  attention  to  her 
bringing-up — to  the  wrong  which  she  considers  you 
have  done  to  her.' 

She  was  rather  white,  but  she  laughed. 

'  Oh,  that  is  it,  is  it  ?  How  amiable  of  her  ! 
Only  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it !  She  was  caught, 
so  she  had  to  say  something.' 

'  I  disagree  with  you  entirely,  Mrs.  Fairbourne,' 
he  said  decidedly. 

'  A  girl  who  would  do  a  thing  like  that ' 


ROSABEL  257 

*  I  don't  excuse  her,  only— none  of  us  are  perfect,' 
he  said.     '  I  am  quite  willing  to  marry  her.' 
'  You  will  marry  her  ?' 

'  I  hope  so,  with  all  my  heart.  She  knows  that  I 
am  going  to  ask  her.' 

The  blow  had  fallen  at  last.  She  realized  now 
that  she  had  been  expecting  it — how  long  ?  Antici- 
pation of  it  had  hung  like  a  black  cloud  over  her  life, 
despite  all  her  efforts  to  dispel  it. 

She  took  it  very  well.     He  was  not  feeling  kindly 
disposed  towards  her,  yet  he  could  not  help  admiring 
the  way  she  rallied  after  the  first  gasp,  and  stood  her 
ground,  hiding  her  wound,  denying  it  in  the  very 
face  of  the  man  who  had  dealt  it.     She  had  pluck. 
He  was  glad.     It  would  have  been  horrible  if  she 
had  lost  her  head  and  wept,  and  said  things  which 
would   have   made   intercourse   between   them   as 
mother-in-law  and  son-in-law  impossible. 
'  This,'  she  said  faintly,  '  is  rather  a  surprise.' 
'  I  hoped  you  knew,'  he  answered. 
'  Of  course  ' — she  drew  a  deep  breath — '  I  am 
gratified  and  relieved.' 
'  Thank  you.' 

'  You  are  treating  her  splendidly,  the  little  cat — far 
better  than  she  deserves.  I  trust  she  realizes  it. 
Anyhow — I  am  obliged  to  you/  Her  voice  grew 
fuller,  more  natural,  every  moment.  '  You  have 
always  been  a  good  friend  to  me,  Alec !  And  you 
could  not  show  your  friendship  more  practically 

17 


258  ROSABEL 

than  by  taking  this  troublesome  girl  off  my  hands. 
She  needs  a  man  to  look  after  her,  and  no  man  could 
do  it  better,  I  am  sure,  than  you.' 

'  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  say  so,  Amy,'  he  replied, 
touched  by  her  generosity.  '  I  think  I  can  make 
her  happy,  and  I  hope  I  shall  make  you  better 
friends  with  each  other  than  you  have  been.' 

'Oh,  I  am  not  going  to  welcome  her  like  a 
returned  prodigal!'  she  replied.  'You  needn't 
expect  that !' 

'  You  must  forgive  her.     She  is  only  nineteen.' 

*  She  is  old  enough  to  behave  with  the  vicious 
determination    of   a   woman    of    forty.      She   can 
come  back  to   me,   but    I   shall   say  what  I  like. 
If  you  are  nervous,  she  had  better  stay  with  the 
Collinses.' 

'  That  is  unnecessary  ;  my  sister  would  take  her. 
But — she  #ught  to  return.  Can't  you  let  it  drop  ? 
After  ajl,'  he  said,  '  if  I  am  satisfied— 

'  I  am  not  as  complaisant,''  she  said,  '  as 
you,' 

It  was  the  one  thrust  she  had  given  him,  and  he 
let  it  pass. 

*  I  will  tell  her,'  he  said  slowly.     '  She  shall  please 
herself.' 

'  It  is  all  the  same  to  me.'  Mrs.  Fairbourne 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  '  She  has  done  her  best,  even 
according  to  your  lenient  explanation  of  her  conduct, 
tojnjure  me.  There  is  a  home  for  her  with  me  until 


ROSABEL  259 

she  marries,  but  my  heart  will  not  break  if  she  does 
not  choose  to  come.' 

'  Still,  I  shall  persuade  her  to  rejoin  you,'  he  said. 
'  I  can  understand  that  you  are  a  little  bitter,  but  the 
feeling  will  pass,  I  hope.' 

Her  lips  twitched  for  an  instant,  and  straightened 
with  visible  effort  as  he  took  her  hand. 
'  Good-bye,'  she  said. 

The  farewell,  as  she  uttered  it,  was  very  signifi- 
cant. 

She  went  to  the  window,  behind  the  curtain,  to 
watch  him  down  the  street.  Then  she  turned,  and 
opened  the  bottle  of  smelling-salts  attached  to  her 
golden  chatelaine,  and  held  it  to  her  nostrils  with  the. 
face  of  death. 

As  for  Aylmer,  he  turned  his  back  on  the  little 
house  in  Great  Cumberland  Place  and*  its  mistress 
with  a  sigh  of  relief.  She  had  behaved  badty,  and 
long  ago  he  had  reached  the  stage  of  wondering  how 
he  could  ever  have  liked  her  ;  but  she  was  a  woman, 
and  she  loved  him,  and  he  had  had  to  tell  her 
that  he  wanted  her  daughter — a  most  unpleasant 
task.  Perhaps  he  had  got  off  better  than  he 
deserved. 

He  returned  thanks  in  the  proper  quarter  that  it 
was  over  and  he  might  relax.  The  rest  of  the  day 
should  be  more  agreeable.  He  lunched  comfort- 
ably at  Prince's,  and  went  down  to  the  Angler's 
Inn. 

17—2 


26o  ROSABEL 

Rosabel  must  have  been  watching  the  trains,  for 
she  met  him  fifty  yards  up  the  road,  with  her  cheeks 
in  a  glow. 

'  I  thought  perhaps  you  wouldn't  come,  after  all,' 
she  said. 

'  I  always  keep  my  promises.' 

The  girl  looked  shy,  and  could  not  meet  his  eyes  ; 
to-day  was  not  last  night,  and  the  sun  was  shining. 
He  took  her  arm. 

'  I  have  seen  your  mother,'  he  added.  '  She  is  not 
pleased  ;  one  can  hardly  expect  it.  I  thought  it 
best  to  be  quite  candid.  But  she  is  willing  that  you 
should  join  her  in  Norfolk.' 

*  I  don't  care  how  angry  she  is,  and  I  don't  want 
to  go  to  Norfolk.' 

'Rosabel!  Rosabel!' 

'  Why  should  I  care  ?'  she  demanded. 

'  Because  I  would  rather  you  were  friends  than 
not.  In  this  instance  you  were  wrong,  and  it  is  your 
place  to  make  the  first  advance.' 

'  She  would  only  smile  in  that  nasty  way  she  has 
with  me,  and  say,  "  Never  mind,  Rosabel." 

'  I  don't  ask  a  great  deal  of  you — I  don't  ask  you 
to  love  her  ;  but  I  should  prefer  you  not  to  adver- 
tise your — our  private  affairs.  Will  you  oblige  me  ? 
You  owe  me  something.' 

*  Of  course*  if  you  put  it  like  that,'  murmured 
Rosabel  huskily. 


ROSABEL  261 

*  It  need  only  be  for  a  little  while,'  he  said.  '  I — 
you  know  I  am  waiting  for  you,  Rosabel  ?' 

Her  lips  worked. 

'Then,  it  is  true!  I  was  awake  all  night,'  she 
admitted  under  her  breath.  '  I  could  not  believe  it 
was  really  true  !' 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

AYLMER  took  Rosabel  to  London  the  next  morning, 
and  bought  her  an  engagement-ring,  and  saw  her  off 
at  Liverpool  Street  for  Norfolk. 

Her  mother  did  not  come  to  meet  her  at  the  other 
end,  and  the  girl  had  a  lonely  drive  of  half  an  hour 
before  the  house  was  reached. 

It  was  a  pretty  place,  near  the  Broads,  and  when 
Rosabel  drove  up:  several  guests,  who  had  arrived 
earlier  in  the  day,  were  occupying  the  veranda,  and 
making  a  great  deal  of  noise. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  did  not  rise  as  Rosabel  stood 
hesitating  ;  she  merely  raised  her  voice. 

*  Ah,  Rosabel,'  she  said,  '  so  you've  come  !  Brace 
knows  which  is  your  room.  If  you  want  tea,  order 
it.' 

The  girl  was  neither  defiant  nor  sullen,  she  was 
coldly  polite.  She  had  expected  to  find  her  mother 
alone,  and  the  visitors  were  a  welcome  buffer. 
Perhaps  nothing  would  be  said,  after  all.  In  any 
case,  she  was  not  to  be  impertinent ;  Aylmer  had 
made  her  promise  that  at  parting. 

262 


ROSABEL  263 

When  she  came  down  again,  with  her  gloves  off, 
Mrs.  Fairbourne's  lips  twitched,  and  for  a  moment  a 
stony  silence  held  her  ;  but  it  was  necessary  to  say 
something— the  flashing  ring  had  drawn  the  other 
women's  eyes. 

'  Rosabel  has  just  become  engaged,'  she  said,  *  to 
someone  you  all  know  well — Alec  Aylmer.' 

A  sort  of  electric  thrill  went  round.  Rash  people 
exchanged  furtive  glances  ;  cautious  ones  looked  at 
their  shoes.  A  carefully  modulated  voice  broke  the 
pause,  which  could  not  be  allowed  to  endure. 

'  Alec  Aylmer  !     Really?' 

'  Yes,'  said  Mrs.  Fairbourne.  '  And  I  always 
thought  him  a  confirmed  bachelor !  But  he  is  a 
dear  fellow.  I  could  have  wished  nothing  nicer  for 
the  girl.' 

She  was  a  wonder  ;  they  all  said  so  afterwards. 
Meanwhile,  everybody  began  to  congratulate  Rosabel, 
who  bore  herself  with  considerable  composure.  She 
was  no  longer  awkward,  because  she  had  lost  that 
sense  of  inferiority  which  had  always  been  so  bitter 
to  her.  Alec  Aylmer — the  best  of  them  all — had 
chosen  her  for  his  wife.  To  consider  herself  not  as 
good  as  these  people  would  be  an  insult  to  him. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  was  the  first  to  observe  the  subtle 
change  which  had  come  over  the  girl,  and  to  realize 
what  it  meant.  She  herself  did  not  utter  a  word  of 
congratulation  to  her  daughter,  avoided  addressing 
her,  did  not  mention  Aylmer's  name  again. 


264  ROSABEL 

Perhaps  this  was  the  course  of  conduct  she  had 
laid  down  for  herself — to  refuse  to  perceive  Rosabel's 
self-satisfaction,  to  ignore  that  anything  of  impor- 
tance had  occurred.  If  so,  she  could  not  stick  to  it. 
She  wanted  to  hear ;  a  morbid  craving  to  torture 
herself  drove  her  to  the  girl's  room  after  they  had 
said  good-night. 

The  knock  at  the  door  in  the  silence — it  reminded 
Rosabel  of  that  other  night.  She  had  posed  so 
mightily  in  her  thoughts,  and  played  such  a  small 
part  in  reality.  It  was  not  her  own  good  sense 
which  had  saved  her  from  ruining  her  life  and  the 
life  of  the  man  who  loved  her,  and  for  a  moment  the 
familiar  feeling  of  humiliation  in  her  mother's 
presence  returned,  and  she  saw  herself  a  pigmy  in 
character  beside  the  woman  who  was  strong  enough 
to  treat  her  with  contempt. 

Her  cheeks  turned  red,  and  her  eyes  glowed  once 
more  with  the  old  sullen  fire. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne,  on  the  contrary,  was  pale,  and 
swept  her  daughter  with  a  scornful  glance. 

'  So  you  have  come  back,'  she  said  again.  '  I 
scarcely  expected  it.  You  have  courage,  upon  my 
word,  after  your  behaviour  !' 

*  Mr.  Aylmer  wished  me  to  come.' 

'  Mr.  Aylmer !'  The  woman  gave  a  laugh  of 
derision.  '  Is  that  what  you  call  him  when  you  are 
alone  ?' 

*  No,'  replied  Rosabel  shortly. 


ROSABEL  265 

'  Mr.  Aylmer !  I  dare  say  you  are  rather  awed  by 
your  magnificence,  aren't  you,  Rosabel  ?  Actually 
a  gentleman  wants  you !  If  I  had  left  you  with  the 
Collinses,  you  would  have  married  a  shop-boy — or  a 
groom  like  your  father.' 

'  I  shouldn't,'  said  Rosabel. 

'  It  would  have  been  more  suitable.  Alec  will 
realize  his  mistake  some  day.  He  is  not  a  man  to  be 
contented  long  with  an  inferior.  He  has  taken  a 
fancy  to  your  looks,  and  that  sort  of  thing  never 
lasts — least  of  all  will  it  last  with  him.' 

'  You  are  trying  to  make  me  unhappy,'  said 
Rosabel ;  '  but  you  can't !  I  know  he  loves  me.' 

'  Oh,  you  do  !  You  are  so  experienced,  of  course. 
But  I  am  even  more  experienced,  and  I  have  known 
Alec  Aylmer  longer  than  you  have.  Let  me  tell  you 
that  he  is  just  a  little  fickle.' 

'  I  don't  believe  it,'  said  the  girl. 

*  He  was  in  love  with  me.' 

'  I  don't  believe  it,'  repeated  Rosabel  obstinately. 
'  He  told  me  he  had  liked  you,  but  that  he  had 
never  loved  anybody  as  he  loves  me.' 

'  You  have  discussed  me  ?' 

'  I  had  to  ask,'  murmured  Rosabel.  *  I  used  to 
think — I  mean,  I  thought  after  what  you  told  me 
once ' 

Mrs.  Fairbourne's  eyes  flamed  suddenly,  and  her 
self-control  left  her  in  a  great  gust  of  passion. 

*  You  stole  him  from  me  !'  she  cried.     *  He  was 


266  ROSABEL 

mine  before  he  was  yours.  You  wanted  to  be  re- 
venged, didn't  you  ?  I  was  to  be  shocked,  heart- 
broken, panic-stricken  by  your  escapade  ;  I  was  to 
be  driven  out  of  England,  perhaps,  by  the  reflection 
of  my  daughter's  dishonour !  I  see  myself  in  the 
role  you  cast  me  for !  Go,  my  dear  ;  pursue  your 
**  revenge,"  and  I  will  get  the  sackcloth  and  ashes 
ready !' 

There  was  more.  It  was  vulgar,  it  was  pitiful,  it 
was  horrible.  And  at  the  end  she  swept  out  of  the 
room  like  a  whirlwind  ;  but  before  she  reached  the 
door  she  added  in  a  little  sobbing  undertone,  '  Oh, 
my  God !'  and  something  clutched  Rosabel  by  the 
throat. 

*  Mother  !'  cried  the  girl,  and  started  forward. 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  did  not  stop.  Through  the 
corridor  she  fled  like  a  wild  thing,  and  shut  the  door 
upon  her  broken  life.  And  Rosabel,  after  a  moment, 
followed,  and  hammered  at  the  door. 

'  Mother,  mother,  let  me  in  !' 

But  there  was  no  response,  and  she  crept  back  to 
her  own  room  baffled,  and  cast  herself  upon  the  bed 
to  weep. 

So  Rosabel  had  her  revenge  after  all — and  hated  it. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

IN  the  morning  there  were,  two  white  faces  at 
the  breakfast-table.  But  whereas  Rosabel,  being 
nervous  and  upset  and  distrait,  could  not  speak, 
Mrs.  Fairbourne  talked  as  easily  as  though  she  had 
never  suffered  from  an  inconvenient  passion  in  her 
life. 

Afterwards  the  woman  drew  the  girl  apart. 

*  Come  outside,  Rosabel ;  I  want  to  speak  to  you.' 
The  window  stood  open  to  the  garden,  and  Rosabel 

followed  silently.  When  they  were  beyond  earshot 
of  the  house,  Mrs.  Fairbourne  began  in  a  voice  care- 
fully modulated  and  composed : 

'  Last  night  I  made  a  fool  of  myself.  It  is  not 
often  that  I  suffer  from  an  attack  of  nerves.  ...  I 
scarcely  remember  what  I  said — a  great  deal  of 
nonsense,  I  am  afraid.'  She  paused,  and  her  eyes 
met  Rosabel's.  '  You  understand  ?' 

'  Yes,  mother.' 

*  We  were  both  excited.     Why  did  you  run  after 
me,  and  knock  at  the  door?     You  made  enough 
noise  to  alarm  the  house.' 

267 


268  ROSABEL 

Rosabel  hung  her  head,  and  coloured. 

*  And  there  was  nothing  the  matter,'  pursued  Mrs. 
Fairbourne  calmly — '  nothing  at  all.     I  was  merely 
hysterical  after  a  tiring  day.     So  you  need  not  repeat 
anything  to  Mr.  Aylmer.' 

*  I  shan't  mention  it,'  said  Rosabel,  looking  up. 

'  Then — we  can  both  forget  it  immediately. 
When  are  you  going  to  be  married  ?' 

'  Alec  thought  at  the  end  of  the  month — if  you  are 
willing  ?'  replied  the  girl,  almost  timidly. 

'  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  me,'  said  Mrs.  Fair- 
bourne,  with  an  air  of  great  impartiality  ;  '  pray 
study  yourselves  alone.  Do  you  wish  to  have  him 
down  here  to  stay,  or  do  you  want  to  go  back  to 
London  and  see  about  your  trousseau  ?' 

*  I  think  I  ought  to  be  seeing  about  my  trousseau.' 

*  Very  well.     We  will  return  to  Great  Cumberland 
Place  next  week,  when  these  people  are  gone.' 

*  You  are  very  kind,'  said  Rosabel  huskily. 
'  Oh,  don't  trouble  to  thank  me,  pray  !' 
Mrs.  Fairbourne  turned  back  to  the  house. 

*  Mother  !'  panted  Rosabel. 
'  What  is  the  matter  ?' 

'  I'm  sorry.  I  was  sorry  last  night — for  the  first 
time.' 

Mrs.  Fairbourne  paused.  But  her  face  was  coldly 
amused,  no  more,  at  the  girl's  distress. 

*  Were    you  ?      Why  ?      Don't    be    sentimental, 
please  ;  it  doesn't  suit  you,  and  it  doesn't  suit  me.' 


ROSABEL  269 

Rosabel  hid  herself  among  the  gooseberry  bushes 
and  apple-trees  in  the  kitchen  garden. 

'  She  hates  me,'  she  thought  bitterly,  '  and  she'll 
never  forgive  me  as  long  as  she  lives.  She  meant 
everything  she  said  last  night,  only  she  is  ashamed. 
Why  should  I  be  sorry  for  her  ?  I'm  not  /  Oh, 
Alec  !' 

Once  more  Rosabel  wept  over  her  revenge.  But 
she  kept  her  word,  and  did  not  repeat  the  story  of 
that  interview  to  Aylmer  when  they  met  again.  She 
only  clung  to  him  with  a  yearning  for  tenderness 
which  told  him  as  much  as  he  cared  to  know. 


THE   END 


BILLING  AND  SONS,  LTD.,  PBIKTMS,  GOH.DFO«D 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

A  PROPHET  OF  THE  REAL 

In  one  volume.      Crmvn  Bra.,  price  6s. 

Some  t>res0  ©pinions 

The  Daily  Telegraph.—'  Miss  Miller's  study  is  both 
striking  and  original.  The  young  authoress  knows  how  to  tell  her 
story,  and  her  manner,  the  way  in  which  she  describes  the  emotions 
of  her  characters,  is  always  adequate,  and  often  eloquent.  She 
shows  us  the  girl  as  she  was  in  the  days  of  her  servitude,  gives  us  all 
the  illuminating  details  of  her  sordid  existence  ;  then  she  shows  us 
the  pathetic  blossoming  of  the  nipped  bud  under  the  influence  of 
kindness,  the  transformation  of  the  morbid  girl  into  a  beautiful  and 
gracious  woman.  Miss  Miller  is  really  to  be  congratulated  on  her 
heroine.  The  study  is  interesting  and  faithful.' 

The  World. — '  An  unusually  good  book.' 

The  Glasgow  Herald. — '  Clever,  interesting,  and  dramatic. 
There  are  vivid  psychological  touches,  and  the  style  is  throughout 
rapid,  graphic,  and  direct.' 

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette.—1  There  is  in  it  nothing  super- 
fluous, nothing  out  of  place.  A  striking  and  dramatic  story.  This 
is  most  certainly  a  book  to  read  and  to  praise. ' 

The  Daily  Chronicle.—'  It  is  quite  good,  and  we  can  very 
conscientiously  recommend  it.' 

The  Graphic.—'  Esther  Miller  is  to  be  thanked  for  the  clever 
treatment  of  a  new  and  original  idea. ' 

The  Sphere.—  '  If  Esther  Miller  were  a  new  writer  I  should 
forecast  great  things  for  her  from  her  new  novel.  ' '  A  Prophet  of  the 
Real "  is  a  book  that  is  certain  to  be  asked  for  at  the  libraries;  it 
will  interest,  and,  moreover,  should  excite  discussion.' 

The  Sketch.—'  A  clever  and  original  story,  and  one  far  above 
the  average.' 

The  Morning  Post.— ••  It  is  really  clever  in  plot,  well 
written,  passionate,  and  dramatic.' 

The  Daily  News.—'  A  very  clever  story.1 

The  Guardian.—1  Miss  Miller's  conception  of  Alice  is  ex- 
tremely clever,  good,  and  delicate,  and  the  study  of  her  character  is 
throughout  thoroughly  interesting.  Miss  Miller  has  given  us  a  novel 
of  unusual  merit.' 

LONDON  :  WILLIAM  HEINEMANN,  20  &  21.  BEDFORD  STREET. 


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